


Beech Lodge

by desideratakontioinen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 14:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 26,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16286255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desideratakontioinen/pseuds/desideratakontioinen
Summary: Minerva McGonagall helps Hermione to find her place after the war. Hermione has a potion to brew, and for the brightest witch of the age she can be really thick about some things.





	1. Beech Logde

**Author's Note:**

> Author´s note:  
> This is my first fan fic ever, the last time I've written anything fictional was sixteen years ago, in highschool. Be gentle. English is not my first language so I apologize for all the countless mistakes and weirdnessess. I didn't have the kind of software that has spell-checking so it´s probably full of typos. My only test audience was my poor husband, who hasn't even read the original books, which I magnificently spoiled for him. 
> 
> All the characters and the world itself belongs to the Supreme Mugwump J. K. Rowling, I was just playing with it. Enough said, I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> The dates might get a tad confusing. Usually it goes lineary, about once a month, there is a chapter that goes back in time, but the chapter´s title makes that easy to notice. The epilogue is about four years ahead of the rest of the thing. 
> 
> \- Desi

Beech Logde

Second of September 1998

She fell out of the sucking, twisting void of apparition and landed gracefully on the forest floor. It was early afternoon. Pale sunlight played in the treetops and a gentle wind brought with it the scent of early autumn, rich notes of the first fallen leaves, perfume of the still blooming flowers. 

She had carefully packed the meagre possessions she had kept in her rooms, her precious books and the few items of clothing she owned, and left without looking back, still feeling anxious and confused about the events of the night before. A shiver went through her spine, but she was determined to forget. This was a new start. A new life. She was resolved not to wallow on things that could have been. 

In her left hand she carried a woven wicker basket. Clutched in her right hand was a piece of parchment. As she read it and concentrated on the words Miss Hermione Granger lives in Beech Logde in Muir of Ord, near Carnoch woods , a winding path materialized in front of her. She crouched down and opened the basket. As soon as the little door swung open on it´s hinges, an orange smushed face peeked out, and the rest of Crookshanks emerged lazily. ”Go on Crooksie, it's where we live now.”. 

She picked the basket up and followed the narrow, overgrown path towards the small cottage. The path was lined with beech trees, the trunks like pillars holding the green leafy roof, forming a sort of airy tunnel. Large oaks stood in a circle around a small garden which was littered with acorns. She could imagine squirrels and other small critters leaping from branch to branch, over joyed by the abundance. The garden had gone wild, but looked charming nevertheless. The view reminded her of Mary's secret garden. 

There was a grumbling stone wall surrounding the plot, with an iron wrought, rusty gate that was now stuck permanently open, tightly surrounded by the rose bush that had slowly engulfed it. She stepped in to the yard. The vegetation was waist high, only a tapering foot path going from the gate to the door. The shattered remains of a greenhouse behind the cabin came in to view. Inside and around it was broken glass and rotted parts of the old frame stuck up in weird angles from the ground. Long grass seemed to have taken over the area and an old ash tree had fallen on, - and in the structure. She slowly took the place in as she circled the cottage. It was old and clearly no one had used it for decades. Vines grew up the stone walls wrapping the tiny house in their tight embrace, the windows looking like dark eyes under the creeping leaves. The roof looked intact, though there seemed to be some sort of an abandoned nest next to one of the two chimneys. It reminded her of Hagrid´s hut, though it wasn't round, nor did it have a pumpkin patch. 

As she rose up the three cracked stone steps leading to the door, she felt the strange urge to knock. Stupid really. It was her´s now, and there was no one here. She opened the door tentatively, almost waiting for an attack. 

She was right, sort of. A house elf was dusting the empty bookshelves and cried out loudly when it saw her. She shrieked, but before she could think of anything to say, the small creature had started to explain. ”Oh Miss Hermione has come, and Winky has only started, Mistress Headmistress McGonagall sent Winky here to help, but Winky has had a lot to do, and there is still much work left”! ”Would Miss want some tea? Winky has cleaned the kitchen and after Winky has finished with the shelves, she shall wash the floor.” The elf spoke fast with a high note. 

” Winky, how lovely to see you again”, she said earnestly. ”I would love some tea thank you, but only if it is not too much, you seem to be busy”. Sent here to help her, eh? Well - all and all, if she had to live with someone, Winky would have been her first choice. The only choice.

She looked around. The cottage was basically one large room. There was a little kitchenette with a wood burning stove on the left, white and blue Morroccan styled tiles adorned the wall between the desktop and the upper cupboards, which were eye-waterlingly bright orange. They must have been very fashionable when the place was last refurbished. Early sixties´ by the looks of it. There was a small wooden kitchen table and three mismatched chairs. The whole kitchen was sparkling clean. Winky had clearly kept her standards. A worn out tea set was placed to dry over a towel, as were the other dishes. There was six of everything. Large plates, small plates, soup bowls, glassware, tea cups, forks and so on. They were old but charming in their way. A bathroom was situated on the far wall, behind a creaky door. Furnished with a small copper tub, a tiny cupboard, and a green porcelain toilet seat and sink. She felt the urge to smirk. The only green things were the toilet fixtures, Minerva truly had had it out with the Slytherins from the start. 

Next to the bathroom was a small pantry or a storeroom without a door, and on the right wall a sleeping alcove and a fireplace. Winky had already dusted the mattress, the covers and pillows as there wasn't a trace of the same fine layer of gray dust, that rested on the other surfaces. She liked it - the Beech Logde. It smelled unfamiliar, and un-inhabited, but it felt promising. No rooms, no corridors, no places to hide. Minerva had thought of everything. Bookshelves covered every wall from floor to ceiling, and the vines that crept on the outer walls framed the windows elegantly. The window sills were deep as the stone walls were almost two feet thick. She rummaged in her bag and pulled out a minute clay pot with a small Mimbulus Mimbletonia, only the size of her pinky – a departing gift Neville had given her the same morning. She put it gently on the sill.

After sitting down for tea with Winky in the two old, overstuffed armchairs by the hearth they made a list of the things that needed to be done, color coded by urgency, to get the place habitable and running. It hadn't always been easy working with Winky, but their months together working in the hospital wing at Hogwarts had made them come to an understanding. She had learned a lot from her S.P.E.W. days. She knew now that Winky needed to work because she thought it was the right thing to do, and Winky had compromised by treating Hermione as an equal rather than a master. She was a bossy little thing and had high standards in everything she did. They had done their work together from making the necessary potions for the ward, to healing broken bones, distributing medicine and staying up at patients bedsides in to the small hours of the morning. The thought of owning an elf would have made her stomach turn just a few years ago, now she knew most of them needed a family to bond themselves to, in order to live content and fulfilling lives, and who was she telling anyone what they needed anyway? 

While Hermione started to arrange her brewing equipment in to the pantry next to the loo, Winky washed the floors, scrubbed the bathroom and pulled from her brown leather handbag crisp new linens for Hermione's bed and a smaller set for the small cupboard she had chosen to nest in, in the kitchenette. Hermione was lost in thought, sorting her different sized cauldrons from her ever useful beaded bag when Winky pulled the hem of her skirt. ”Miss, there is an owl, a naughty, biting owl, bitey owls don't get treats!”. The owl in question sat eyes wide on top of the bookshelf nearest the kitchen and gently hooted, looking somewhat disappointed for the lack of refreshments. The envelope Winky had wrestled from it was thick and heavy and carried the achingly familiar green script and the crest of Hogwarts. Miss Hermione Granger, Potions lab, Beech Logde, Muir of Ord. Inside was three envelopes and a neatly folded parchment she quickly unfolded and read on:

Dear Miss Granger  
I hope you find your new lodgings acceptable, I know they have been neglected for a long time, but I took the liberty of sending Winky there early this morning, to make preparations. I hope you will give her the home she so sorely needs, she shall remain in Hogwarts´ employment, but for all intents and purposes, she now belongs to you. She was quite adamant about accompanying you, as she has become deeply fond of you during the last few months. I also propose that you keep the delivering owl as the cottage isn't attached to the floo-network. It would be prudent to have some sort of method to communicate with the outer world.  
Your N.E.W.T. Scores are in one of the envelopes. I also took the liberty of filling up your application for the war veteran pension and enclosed their response to said application. In addition, I was contacted today by Healer Tursnip from St. Mungo´s, who appears to have a proposition for you. They weren't aware of your departure from the school and I agreed to act as a courier for their offer. If you take up on their proposal, I shall visit you tomorrow and bring with me Professor Hagrid, Professor Sprout and Mr. Longbottom who is, as you well know, from this morning forward training under Professor Sprout. Owl me kindly this evening, concerning the St. Mungo´s business. If you turn them down, I shall visit alone.  
Yours sincerely  
\- Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts.

She let out a sigh, war veterans pension. Was she truly this damaged? A pensioneer, at nineteen. She opened the envelope. Dear Miss Granger – we are happy to inform you that you shall receive a compensation of nine galleons a month as a war orphan until your 21 birthday, the funds will go straight to your vault at Gringott´s -nine galleons for being an orphan. Great. Grand. She would gladly pay more if she could had her parents back. She felt an angry blush settle on her cheeks. On the other hand she needed be reasonable, she needed to eat. And pay rent. Minerva would argue this no doubt, she had gifted the cottage to her, but she didn't want to be a charity case, someone to be pitied, living out the kindness of others. She put the letter away without finishing it. 

The second one she opened was her N.E.W.T. Scores. Her hands shook slightly when she tried to carefully pry the envelope open. She had calmed down somewhat during the years. Grown up, perhaps. She remembered how she had felt while opening her O.W.L.s, and just couldn't manage the same level of enthusiasm anymore. Ron had mocked her for being disappointed with her one exceeds expectations back then. Ron. How far had he slipped. And how quickly. War worked like that, she supposed. He felt like a complete stranger now. He had been there, by her side for years and years, through it all, and now he was gone. 

She had gotten eleven Outstandings. She felt wanly pleased rather than happy or content, really, how had this felt so important once? She slipped the results back in the envelope. There was the one from St. Mungo's left. 

Dear Miss Granger, 

We thank you of your contribution on the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts´, and we have had this proposition ready and waiting until you had officially graduated. Healer Spleen was most taken with your hard working attitude, quick ability to learn, and of your passion for brewing the potions so ambitiously, altering them to be more efficient. We propose to you a sort of research grant, a scholarship if you will, if you would continue your exceptional work with the experimental potion you started brewing during the summer. We offer you anything you shall need, both funding and resources. The potions patent shall of course be yours, but we would like to aid you in getting the potion ready for large testing groups and eventually to be used in the hospital, (and wizarding hospitals around the world) as it would be dearly needed. Would you reply, post haste, so we can start the preparations at our end. 

Your´s sincerely 

Healer Augustus Tursnip, internal injuries ward, St. Mungo's. 

Her mouth hung open, she felt the feeling of warm satisfaction and nerves taking over her entire body. Well this..This was a dream come true! She could continue her research and get the resources, and St. Mungo's would support her on her quest. She didn't have to be only a shell shocked head case people would talk down to in a condescending way. She beamed at Winky and dug through her beaded bag for parchment and a quill. She scribbled a hasty ”Yes-thank-you-of -course-when-shall-we-meet-to-discuss-the-details ”-reply to St. Mungo's and a quick ”Yes!-Please-come-over!” note to Minerva. That's why Minerva had wanted to bring Sprout, Neville and Hagrid, to get the garden and greenhouse kick started for her research! She also wrote down the orders of the new mail order catalogues from Potage's Cauldron Shop and the Slug and Jigger´s Apothecary. There was plenty of things she would need.

After emptying her potions equipment in her makeshift lab, she started filling the bookshelves. It was by far her favourite thing, a task that should be done with care. It was truly a wonder, she thought, accioing book after book from the capacious depths of her bag. Had they kept dragging all of these tomes while on the run? Sure, she'd gotten some new additions to her collection during the summer. Would she dare ask Mrs. Weasley to send over the old ones that she had abandoned at the Burrow before they had started their hunt for the Horcruxes. The shelves were slowly filling themselves as she would rummage through her bag and come up with volume after another and sort them in to neat piles on the floor, then taking her time to decide how to shelf them. She had quite the stock, but still there was empty spaces, maybe she could put in some photos or trinkets here and there. She just hadn't any. Well maybe she could look through the cabinets and find something. It was definitely starting to look like home.


	2. Helping hands

Helping hands  
Third of September 1998

She had awakened during the night dazed and confused, staring at the strange ceiling before remembering where she was. A sheet of sweat had covered her face and she could still hear the sound of footsteps in the castle halls echoing in her ears. Hogwarts´ had become the usual stage of her nightly terrors. She had tossed and turned for a long time listening to the muffled  scratching coming from outside, reassuring herself it was only a squirrel. She had fallen asleep holding a raspily purring Crookshanks against her chest, running her delicate fingers in his tattered fur. 

As morning light flooded the cabin and bird song had gently brought her awake she saw Winky already bustling about in the kitchen, a warm fire burning in the grate. She put on the same pullower she wore yesterday, as she had very little to choose from, favouring jeans instead of a skirt, as she would get dirty today anyway. Now that she thought of it, she had better buy something warm for the upcoming winter, and she would definitely need wellington boots and such with all the chores she needed to get done around here.

The nightmares had dampened her hopeful spirits from last night somewhat, but after a lengthy breakfast with Winky,  buried in their plans, lists and sketches, she felt slightly more cheerful again. They ate porridge with cranberries and honey, pumpkin juice and coffee, while discussing their layout for the day. Minerva had come, as promised, accompanied by Hagrid, Neville and Professor Sprout. ”Please call me Pomona, dear,  I am not your professor anymore”, she had said as they shook hands outside the cottage. Hagrid had given her one of his signature bone crushing embraces, and Neville had blushed awkwardly stumbling somewhere between a hug and a handshake. 

They went to the back of the house and she explained them the project, and soon enough they had started to make head way. Hagrid had lifted the fallen tree from the caved in greenhouse and started repairs on the structures with McGonagall. Neville and professor Sprout kept emptying planter after planter from a normal looking canvas bag, that had to have an extension charm on it. After Minerva and Hagrid had repaired the mangled heap of glass and they had cleared mounds of weed packed and hay covered earth from the grounds, they all started to plant the greenhouse together, as it was work best done with hands, not wands. 

After the last sprout and flower, shrubbery and sapling had gone into the dark and mulchy soil and all the plants were happily on the ground waiting to be watered, they ate a few sandwiches courtesy of Winky, and started weeding the overgrown garden. ”There are the most basic herbs here you know, I planted then myself nearly fifty years ago”, said Minerva wiping her dirt covered hands on her robes and then swiping the sweat away from her brow. She looked softer, somehow less intimidating wearing an apron and rubber boots.  ”Yeah, we will just have to find them from this jungle first”, Neville whispered to Hermione under his breath. She smiled to him. She had been worried that this many people at once would trigger another episode, but she felt calm and grateful that they were there. She was happy, happy and hopeful for the first time in months, years really. 

She already felt at ease here in the woods, she was excited about her research agreement with the hospital and started to discuss the proposition with Neville in detail. He was an eager listener, and bursting with enthusiasm because the ingredients she would be working with would come mainly from the greenhouse and the garden, which was his passion. He had started an apprenticeship in Hogwarts the same morning, under Pomona and was to succeed as the Herbology professor in six years. Until then he would have to study vigorously and he was over the moon about it. He wasn't the only apprentice at the school. Theodore Nott was training under Professor Slughorn and Hannah Abbott under Madam Pomfrey. The castle was still undergoing repairs, the largest collapses and cave-ins had been mended, but there was lots to do still. There was still some parts that were un-accessible, like the astronomy tower, and some parts of the grounds too, as the giants had reeked such havoc during the battle.

Hagrid had build her two large composts behind the greenhouse. ”The other's for the food scraps an' such-yer know, and the other's for the twigs an' leaves an' all that sort of stuff. Yer'll get good soil from these, see? An' it'll be a great place to hibernate for the Knarls roamin' about here”. Hagrid had given her some advice as how to attract the profoundly suspicious creatures and earn their trust, and he kept talking on and on about the various magical beings she would be likely to encounter in her new surroundings. 

After they had finished the weeding and pruning, and the daylight long gone, they had eaten a stout dinner of yorkshire pudding, roasted potatoes, gravy, shepherd's pie, rolls, brussel sprouts, and many other dishes, ending with a scrumptious treacle tart for pudding. Winky looked so pleased, getting to prepare such a large quantity of food, she absolutely beamed. After they had eaten she had said her goodbye´s and endless thank you´s to her guests and helpers. 

She helped carry some of the empty dishes to the sink, despite Winky´s objections, and then went out to get more wood from the large pile Hagrid had chopped for her. He had retrieved many fallen trees in the woods nearby, and she would keep comfortable and warm for a good, long time. She felt unbelievably grateful of their help. It would have taken her ages to get so much done.

She sat down exhausted on the rug near the fireplace and started a letter. She felt a bit ashamed of how long it had been since she had written properly to her friends.

Dear Harry

I have settled now in Mcgonagall's old cottage, and it's amazing. This place is beautiful, like from a muggle fairytale. It's really secluded, but the peace and quiet are doing me good. Don't worry, I am not moping out here all alone, as McGonagall kindly gifted me Winky and Hugo. You'll meet Hugo soon, (watch out for your fingers, he bites!) 

How is Ginny?  How are things going at Grimmaulds´? How is Kreecher? I miss both of you so much and I'm sorry I've been so cut-off from everyone for the past few months.   
You must have been busy though! What is it like working in the Ministry? Have Remus and Teddy gotten used to the house yet?

I'm feeling a lot better here than at the school, I haven't had a single attack in the two days I've spent here. Today Hagrid, Neville and Professors Mcgonagall and Sprout visited, and helped repair and plant the greenhouse and garden with me, -OH I forgot to tell you that I got a research scholarship from St.Mungo's! It's a dream come true!I'll tell you ALL about it when we see each other. I hope you haven't been too worried. Honestly, things couldn't be better here. Send Ginny, Remus and Teddy my love, I promise I will come to visit you as soon as I get properly settled here. How about next week? 

Love Hermione

After Hugo had disappeared into the night sky she curled under a quilt in the maroon velvet armchair by the fire, with Hogwarts: A History clutched against her chest. She waited for the high-pitched snores to start before she cast a non-verbal silencio. She wept quietly, not wanting to disturb Winky who was sleeping in her little cupboard under the kitchen cabinets. She cried for an hour before sleep finally came over her. 

She dreamed of the hospital wing, reading an obscure book out loud in a rocking chair, but suddenly she found the bed empty and ran corridor after corridor, but she could not find him. Her breath hitched in her lungs when she finally located him in the dungeons, lying on the floor in a pool of his own warm blood. She screamed, and sank down to hold him, burying her hands in his soaked robes, when he turned into Fred, crushed and smiling still, then to Tonks, with her empty eyes staring disbelievingly in to the distance. 

”Miss! Miss Hermione!Miss wake up!” She jerked awake, covered in sweat and slid down to her knees on the rug finding Winky fussing about distressed by her silenced thrashing and screaming. ”Miss was having a bad dream and Winky couldn't get her to wake up. Miss shall come to her bed now, it is still night time, and Miss needs her bed”. The elf dragged her by the hand to her bed and took a small bottle from the nightstand, measured a spoonful and offered it to her. ”It is dreamless sleep Miss, and you shall drink it now and you shall sleep and Winky shall too!” 

After Hermione's head had sank in the pillow and her breathing had turned into an even, slow rhythm, Winky put a few more logs in the fire and sat down on the edge of Hermione´s bed taking her hand in to her own and petting it gently. ”Poor Miss. She must rest. She needs her rest, and her Winky”, the elf muttered in a silent voice and curled up at her feet.


	3. Dead elephants

Dead elephants  
23th of September 1998

After three weeks had passed from Harry´s reply and she hadn't gotten out of her house to visit them, they came to her. At the subtle tingling and prickling on her skin, she knew her wards alarmed her of visitors. She knew it had to be either them or some one from Hogwarts, as no one else beside them knew of the place, it being un-plottable and under a fidelius charm, and the teaching staff were already busy with the students. Minerva was always courteous enough to make sure, if she was allowed to give her address to someone, and she never brought people with her, without checking it was fine first. She felt the familiar urge to run, to hide. You're being silly again, she told herself as she got out of her brewing pantry, suspending the potions in progress.  

She opened the door and Crookshanks trotted in, taking his place on the kitchen table, which made Winky frown deeply. Remus Lupin came in first, holding baby Teddy and hugging her long and hard. Once he withdrew, she examined his appearance. He looked pale and he had lost weight, his eyes seemed permanently red-rimmed and puffy from still mourning the loss of his wife. His hair was greyer that ever and he looked haunted. Teddy reached out for her with his tiny chubby hands, and she took him eagerly in to her arms and peckered his little face with  kisses. 

Harry came in after Remus and he was looking tired. Happy but tired. The auror training was notoriously hard and Ginny was having the weirdest cravings, which forced him to go out hunting for kippers and strawberry ice cream at four in the morning any given night. Ginny looked more beautiful than ever at six months, pregnant women did seem to glow, after all.  Hermione was happy, embarassed, guilty, and terrified. Happy to see them, embarrassed she hadn't gone to visit them, guilty for causing such a fuss, guilty for being a bad friend, guilty for being weak and ill and surviving when others hadn't. And terrified she'd get another episode. 

She showed them around the garden and the greenhouse, introduced them to the plantains and the Comfreys, (her main research targets at the moment), and talked about her assistant who came over from St. Mungo's every monday to gather her data and document her progress. 

Harry told her of the auror training programme and the changes Kingsley was making at the Ministry. Draco Malfoy had also started training as an auror, and they had forged a somewhat unexpected friendship, considering their past. ”He's a nice guy really, once you get past the privileged, pompous, whiny prat that he can be”. Harry had said with an affectionate smile on his face. Draco's parents were both in Azkaban, Lucius for the rest of his natural days, and Narcissa for the next eight years.

Ginny was telling in vivid details what it is like growing a tiny Potter inside her. Apparently the quidditch genes were strong in this one as he kept swirling around, grabbing her bladder or beating her internal organs like they were made of bludgers. Or she, Harry had interjected, her mother happened to be an amazing seeker and a chaser. Ginny smiled and they nuzzeled their cheeks together. Hermione felt a cold stone-like something drop in her stomach – she had avoided them partly because on this: She felt so alone, watching them cuddle. 

She kept holding Teddy and he fell asleep on her arms as the daylight went. Remus had told her of their living arrangements with Harry and Ginny with the same kind of embarrassment and humility as she had of her own ones, the cabin was Minerva´s, after all. Harry and Ginny had insisted they move in and watched over Teddy during the full moons. They had secured the basement and warded it off so Remus could go through his changes there. They had a bedroom on the second floor, right next to the library where Teddy enjoyed drooling on the books. 

Kreacher was happy attending to all of them and they had finally gotten the portrait of Mrs. Black down from the wall. They had paid a fair fortune to a retired, notoriously famous cursebreaker who had neatly burned it away with confined fiendfyre, and Ginny was spending her time renovating the place with the help of assorted Weasley clan members. 

Mrs. Weasley of course felt strongly about having her first grandchild in a murky place like that, it just wouldn't do, and she wasn't too pleased about the lack of a wedding either. They had gotten married in a dingy room of an old and withered Ministry official, just the two of them. Harry had proposed the instant Ginny had noticed she was pregnant, and they had gotten on with it at the Ministry the following day. Molly was cross because there had been no celebrations, no guests, and no big feasts under magical marquises at the Burrow. Her only daughter had eloped without her being involved in it, and she kept harping on and on about being robbed of certain rights as a mother. They had promised her that come next summer, Mrs. Weasley would be allowed to throw them a party. 

Still Mrs. Weasley had been unwavering about helping around at the Black town house, or the Potter town house, since there were no more Blacks left, and it felt odd calling Grimmauld place that anymore. They had started from the bottom floor kitchen and pantries, and George had accidentally stumbled upon a hidden door on the ground floor, that had led to a garden. It was small and at the moment resembeled more of a jungle, but nice once it would have some work done. Neville had volunteered to help. 

The second floor was ready, library and sitting room and two bedrooms. They would be tackling floor number three next week. Hermione sensed a fleeing surge of discomfort from Ginny, like she had thought, ” Don't you dare to say anything!” She had never wanted to follow in the footsteps of her mother. She had wanted to play quidditch, professionally, and now she felt she was a proper little house wife, filling her days with interior design and baby-proofing. 

Inspired by the idea of unclehood George had sworn there would be a new line of baby products at Weasleys' Wizard  Wheezes, Ginny told her with trepidations, and Charlie had moved back to Britain, to be closer to the rest of the family. Ginny updated her tentatively, that Ron had started to play reserve keeper for the Chudley Cannons and was seeing Luna Lovegood,well not seeing as much as living with her. Luna had lost her father in the war and she was proudly keeping the Quibbler going. Ron had moved to her place during the summer, and they seemed happy. 

”I'm happy for them, honestly, I never thought that we would end up together, don't worry Gin”, Hermione assured her. She was telling the truth. She couldn't imagine herself with Ron. Sure, they had comforted each other with their bodies and affection during the months they had been on the run. Even harbored crushes for one another for years, but after Ron had abandoned them, after that horrible night she didn't feel it anymore. The moment he had disapparated outside their tent everything she had ever felt for him had vanished, as evanescoed away. 

The Weasleys seemed to be feeling better when they were keeping themselves busy, and Hermione knew the feeling. Her own symptoms had started when the hospital wing at Hogwarts had released its final patient and closed its doors, and she had had nothing to do. Nothing to concentrate on. To keep her going. Only her sad emptiness and longing and pain. Like there was negative pressure inside her, an all consuming black hole, a thirst she could not satisfy . And the memories, like paused scenes in movies. All she had seen. Everything they had lost. Everyone they had lost. No one mentioned Fred or Tonks all night. Not once. There seemed to be two elephants in the room. Two dead elephants.

Why did others seem to be able to go on as nothing had happened? Was she the only one thinking and re-thinking about it all? It was like rewinding the same film and watching it over, and over again. Her friends never wanted to talk about their losses, their feelings or thoughts about it. Did they feel the same? Were they just as lost in their own heads, but didn't want to talk about it, afraid to bring the hurt to the surface and share how it had affected them? Did they still wake up screaming and sobbing like her? 

Night had fallen as they talked and finally Remus took the sleeping bundle which was Teddy from her, the boy's hair mimicking the colour and texture on her own wild, frizzy curls, changing swiftly to the sandy grey streaked mess that was his father´s and they left with promises to come see her soon. She closed the door exhausted, as Winky guided her gently to the bathroom where the elf had drawn her a steaming bath. She felt like child who needed to be told when to bathe, but Winky was right as usual. She felt strained and tense. She thanked the elf, and after removing her woollen cardigan, jeans and t-shirt, she climbed in. She kept the door open. She disliked like not seeing the whole cottage at once. She thought about this evening. 

It had been nice to see them, she had felt calm enough, holding Teddy as a shield between herself and the others, said the part of her brain that was too honest for her own liking.  But being with people made her feel worn out. She had enjoyed listening to them, but had found it hard to speak. What was there to tell, other than the research. They had living, growing lives, and she was here, stagnating.


	4. Honey and knitting

Honey and knitting  
October 1998

The weeks flew by with the same routine. She savoured it, it made feel safe. She would wake up at the sunrise every morning, eat with Winky and start brewing, or gathering the components from her garden. The frost had started to bite the herbs during the nights and it was time to cut them and hang them up to dry, or preserve them in other ways. 

Neville had shown her a clever spell slightly varied from the normal freezing charm, that kept the plants used it potion making in immaculate freshness. The greenhouse would be lush all year around and she would get the missing resources from the hospital, or Hogwarts. The potion she was working on was coming up satisfactorily, she had pinpointed the perfect ratio of the main ingredients. The groundwork had been laid while working in the hospital wing, toying around with the idea and doing her first ambitious experiments. Now she had to find the so called supporting actors, the ones that helped the potion stay fresh, helped it seep in the damaged internal organs, help lower the swelling, stop the bleeding without coagulating the patients blood and so on. 

She enjoyed the process. She had the habit of preparing large quantities of materials at once, setting up four to five smaller cauldrons and tweaking the amounts in each of them just slightly, or trying a different component here and there. The most promising three at the moment all consisted of powdered comfrey, freeze-dried plantain, Dittany, honey, powdered unicorn horn and a few key ingredients of the blood replenishing potion. It was still a raw version, it needed much more before it would work as she intended. She was grinding the comfrey until it was a fine dust, coating the large stone mortar, and deposited it in to a glass bowl. She put the lid on carefully, she needn't the kind of mess again, that had resulted from an unwarranted sneeze. 

As she was starting to measure the honey she realised she was running low, so she had to go to the hive in the greenhouse. It too had been Neville´s idea. Brilliant really, as the greenhouse was always warm and magically enlightened and there were plants in the need for pollination. Neville had brought her a new born queen and a small community of bees which had separated from the Hogwarts colony. The hive was in the far back of the greenhouse. 

She loved walking there. The air was thick with humidity. An array of exotic smells varying from sweet and sultry, to sharp and woody would fill her nostrils, and her heart filled with warm affection for every living, growing thing she was harbouring here.  Her bubotubers were perky, Mandrake still an infant, her lovely unusual magical strain of roses swaying from side to side as in dance.She would slowly move about, placing her feet on the narrow stepping stones between the rows of plants, touching and caressing every and each one with care. Except for the Devil's snare, to that she just waved. Even though it was behind a magical shield, she didn't want to get too close to it, if she didn't absolutely need to. She still remembered too well what had happened to poor Mr. Bode.

The bees hummed lazily when she approached them. She crouched down on the floor and twisted the clever little tap at the bottom. Golden honey trickled down to her jug. She filled it to the brim, took a smaller jar and filled it too. Thank you very much darlings, she thought, and thank you very much Neville for this ingenious contraption. Neville had accidentally found a new muggle design of beehives. ”You don't need to open the hive”, he had explained. ”You don't have to disturb the bees at all, just open the tap and the honey seeps down”. Neville was great, he would write to her every time an idea struck him, which was usually once a week. The bees never had stung her, and she was always sure to thank them from their hard work. She would give them a plate full of  bright yellow pollen (courtesy of Hogwarts) each day, as the greenhouse was rather small for feeding an entire colony. 

She made her way back to the house and placed the smaller jar in the kitchen cabinet, and the bigger one in her lab. Maybe she ought to take a break and have a nice cup of tea and something to eat. She had been feeling a bit queasy that morning, not being able to get anything down at breakfast. 

Winky was sitting in her armchair knitting. There was rarely nothing for her to do except for the cooking. Hermione was too tidy to keep the elf busy enough, and Crookshanks had not appreciated Winky´s attempts to wash and tame the knots in his mangy fur. Cooking was something Hermione hadn't just gotten the hang of. She excelled at potions and cooking was basically the same thing, then why was it so hard? Winky helped her tend the greenhouse and sometimes cleaned in the lab, but mainly in the evenings, the tiny thing sat by the fire knitting and knitting, putting the finished pieces in her cupboard so quickly that Hermione had not yet seen what it was, that she was making. 

She felt a wave of nausea hitting her out of the blue, and stormed in to the loo, heaving and retching. After the convulsions that had brought bitter fluid up in to her throat and mouth had passed, she staggered back to the lab.


	5. Feeling stuck

Feeling stuck  
Fourth of November 1998

She had thoroughly settled in. The cottage was now home, the work had her on a nice and tight schedule, even her visitors came and went by their own rhythm. The research assistant – Mr. Elliot,  came every monday at five pm. They would take records of her notes and progress, and an hour later the man would leave. He was a tall, ill-postured man in his late twenties, with thick spectacles, and a wispy long, braided beard. They never talked about anything else than work, and she was happy to keep it so. It wasn't that she didn't like him as a person, but she had great difficulty thinking of normal things to say. All she had was the work and the war, and the war was over. 

Minerva visited her every other saturday, as she had much responsibilities on the weekdays.  They had become friends, almost family, as she had no one left, and she could tell Minerva anything. She was like, well not so much as a mother, but godmother perhaps, and she cared for her like no other. Minerva had given her a home, given her a place to recover from her wounds. Given her trust, confidence and a shoulder to cry on. 

Neville popped  in once a month, carrying armfuls of his newest innovations, or animatedly sharing his notes on everything he had learned. He was flourishing. Without the pressure of pleasing his stern grandmother with grades, or being terrified of Professor Snape he had started to show such impressive aptitude, that it was hard associating him with the nervous boy he had once been. He was outstanding with his studies in herbology, and had exceeded all expectations the teaching staff had of him.

Harry and Ginny came by roughly every fortnight. Ginny was huge now and she waited eagerly for the baby to come, ”Only two months left!” She kept chanting. Harry would rub her swollen feet as the tiny Potter inside her kicked about so forcefully you could see it from the outside. It made her feel a bit uneasy. She had had no idea that a fetus could make such a ruckus. 

Remus and Teddy had just visited the day before, Teddy was now eight months old, crawling swiftly across the floor, trying to catch Crookshanks´ tail in his plump fists. Remus had smiled looking at his son.

”How are you Hermione, really?” He had asked, not looking at her but keeping his eyes fast on Teddy. ”What? Oh I'm fine really Remus. I love it here. I still can't handle big, open spaces. I couldn't handle being at  Hogwarts anymore, it became all too much, and I can't work on the hospital´s premises. There is too much noise and lights and colours and smells and people. Too much of everything”, she sighed. ”It calms me down to be here, to see everything at once, to have limits. Having Winky and Crooksie and Hugo here, is just enough. I have a home. And a family, no Remus really” – he looked like he was about to interrupt her- ”I am honestly really happy with my work and I need this. I just couldn't come to live at Grimmaulds when Harry asked me, I hated that place. I know it's changed now, but I am honestly, truly happy here”. She looked in his eyes and he gave her a wan smile. ”If you are happy, that's enough for me”. He answered. ”They asked me, from the Ministry, you know, to work as a liason for the new magical creatures and beings department. I could mainly work from home and be with Teddy. I took their offer, and I start after the new years, I just want to be with Teddy for awhile longer.” They sat in silence, side by side. She noticed his hand was resting on the floor next to her´s, his fingertips just barely touching her. She had felt distinctly awkward. 

After the boys (as she called them in her mind) had left she went back to her work. She felt stuck.  There were still the problems with the blood coagulation. If it was too weak, the internal bleeding wouldn't stop. But if too much, the patient would be at a large risk of an massive embolism. Also the potion finding the right areas, the areas where there was massive internal damage, and repairing it without affecting any healthy tissue and scarring it was still an issue. 

The side effects were still too rough, too dangerous. And she had no idea how to get them right. She was feeling incredibly frustrated. Her brains were oddly fogged and tired,  and she still had passing fits of nausea and was prone to retch every now and then. Cleverest witch of the age my buttocks, she thought as she ransacked through her ingredient shelves, trying to think of something, anything she could try. She thought of the beginning. The hospital wing. 

After the Battle of Hogwarts, as it was now known, she had volunteered to help in the ward. Ron had been too devastated with the loss of Fred, mourning and weeping by Fred´s body in the great hall with the rest of the Weasleys. It had felt private, like she had not had the right to be affected. She wasn't family. She had no family. She had hoped to find her parents after it was all over, hoping to lift the enchantments and remove the obliviation and memory reconstruction she had performed on them, but Kingsley had pulled her to a corner, after the  fight was over, and informed her in a serious manner, of their capture and killings. The death eaters had gotten them a day before they had planned to depart to Australia. She had thought sending them to Perth with new identities would have saved them, but she had been too late. 

Harry was off with others searching the halls, classrooms and corridors of the castle and the grounds for wounded, and carrying the dead bodies of their friends and classmates inside. The great hall was full of  the fallen and the volunteers still brought new ones in. The wounded were filling the already over stuffed ward. St. Mungo's had taken as many as they could, and sent healers and medi wizards to the school. 

The hospital wing was bursting with people, endless rows of cots had patients covered in blood , dust, grime and tear tracks. Mainly it was mending broken bones, bruises and cuts, distributing blood replenishing potions, pepper-ups, pain potions and dreamless sleep. The more severely injured ones had been sent to St. Mungo's until it was full. She had not slept after the night in Shell cottage, raiding Gringotts, and the battle in the school. She didn't feel tired, she felt sharp and focused, dislodged from everything had happened. She had treated injury after injury, calmly and expertly until Harry had charged in , screaming for help. ”He is still alive”, he had yelled over and over again. Neville had followed him shortly carrying in the deadly pale and limp form of Professor Snape, bathed in blood that had congealed  hours ago. She had seen white sparks emerge at the periphery of her vision and all had gone dark. 

She had woken up three days later, feeling like she had been run over by a heard centaurs. A house elf had alerted Madam Pomfrey and they had fussed over her until the matron was satisfied that she was fine. ”Over exhaustion and malnourishment, you need to sleep and eat like the rest of us Miss Granger”, she had fumed. The elf – Winky, had taken care of Hermione personally, alerting the matron if she felt Hermione ate too little, or slept restlessly. After Hermione had gotten her strength back she had started to work in the ward.

The beds were still full on patients, patients with more serious injuries than fractures or lacerations. They had a handful who had survived similar explosions and collapsing walls and ceilings that had taken Fred´s life. They had four, who had been savaged by Fenrir Greyback, having different kinds of cursed mauling wounds. One of them was Lavender Brown, who had lived miraculously, even though the rabid beast had ripped open most of her neck. She was being kept under bewitched sleep, as she had almost bled out and the wounds were still open. It was easier treating her as she slept soundly. 

Snape was much the same. He hadn't been allowed to awaken either, as he too had had massive damage to his neck and throat. They weren't sure he could ever speak again. Nagini´s fangs had punctured his windpipe. Luckily for him, his broken and dislodged trachea had slowed the bleeding down. Harry who had wanted to bring his body back from the shack, had unbelievably found the smallest trace of a heartbeat and rushed him in. 

The most demanding patients they had, had suffered devastating internal injuries from dark curses and the collapsing castle. Multiple ruptured organs, punctured lungs and massive internal bleeding. That's when she had come up with the idea of the potion. She had wanted to help so badly, but had felt utterly futile and incompetent at times. 

She thought of the rocking chair next to the last cot in the ward. As secluded as you could be in the hospital wing, as long as she shut the curtains. She had spent most of her nights there sitting and watching over the man who had worked so hard for Dumbledore, so hard for Harry. The man who had no other visitors, no worried loved ones to sit by their bedside. She had been sure he had died, she could still see the blood gushing out of his neck and mouth as Harry collected his memories in the small vial she had conjured out of thin air in the Shrieking shack. His outcome would be looking a lot better if they hadn't left him there to die. She should have checked. But all that blood.. She sat there silently, and gently took his hand and stilled herself to get his pulse. It was stronger than yesterday. ”Don't give up sir, we are doing everything we can for you. Please , please stay alive”. 

They would stop giving the draught of the living death to Snape and Lavender in three days. Then they would wake up, if they woke up. She took out her copy of Hogwarts : A History and read to him, in a small but unwavering voice. He couldn't hear her, she was sure, but she wanted for him to know, that someone was there, just incase he could sense something through the medicine induced coma. She didn't want for him to think that nobody cared, that they didn't appreciate all that he had done for them. How lonely he must have been, for years now. This explained everything the way he acted, he was keeping everyone safe. How much he must have loved Lily, to go through all this just for Harry to live, for Harry to win. And she had set him on fire in her first year. How embarrassing. 

Lavender had been devastated when she had finally woken up. Her beautiful face was intact, but from her jawline to her cleavage she was a mangled, bloody mess.  It would scar horribly, eventually. She had cried for her lost beauty, and howled in agony when she had learned that Parvati had not survived similar injuries. Bill Weasley had come and see her and the other victims of Greyback on a few occasions, comforting them on the fact that they would not be werewolves, as it hadn't been the full moon. Lycanthropy would have transferred fully, only if the werewolf in question had been in his cursed form, as Greyback had been mauling people as a human, the curse wouldn't pass on. This helped very little with the patients mood, as they were scarred and disfigured in horrible, obscene and permanent ways. Bill used to be beautiful too.

She was startled out of her memories as a small jar of pickled leeches fell to the floor and shattered. Merlins bloody, tattered, left nut. Leeches! Leeches would seek out blood. Could it work? She would need to think how to prepare them. She left the mess there and raced to the bookshelf nearest the fireplace and pulled out five large books. She started to take notes on different ways of using leeches, what would bring out their essence best. Her brain whirred and she hummed tunelessly while her quill wrote line after line to her notebook.  Winky looked at her from behind the pink little quilt she was knitting. The elf smiled knowingly and headed towards the kitchen, Miss had the look Winky knew. She would like some coffee soon. Miss always wanted coffee as an idea struck.


	6. Surprise!

Surprise!  
7.11.1998

It was one of those perfect, frosty November mornings she adored. A faint sunshine beamed down on the heaps of brightly coloured leaves laying on the ground. The trees were almost entirely bare now and white rime had crept over the landscape covering the fallen leaves, trunks of trees and the grass. The foliage surrounding her home had turned to vivid tones of red and yellow before the leaves had fallen, as the year was coming closer to its end. They made her footsteps crunch loudly, and the noise made her face curl up in to a smile as she walked to check up on her greenhouse. 

Hagrid had been right about the composts. A knarl couple had taken residence under one, after she had proven to the critters that she was a trustworthy landlord. Knarls resembled hedgehogs so much that she had felt the urge to leave them some food, as her mother had always done, but being a very paranoid creature the knarl would take that as an attempt for their lives and would destroy the gardens they found food offerings in, in a fit of righteous revenge. As she valued her small plot of land highly, she had fought her desires and instead had moved clumps of wild daisies from the nearby meadow and planted them on the back of the yard. Wild daisies were knarls favourites.

She had also come upon a solitary gnome, living in a burrow under the stone wall surrounding the yard. She had accidentally stumbled upon the entry tunnel to it's small nest when she was harvesting her rosemaries. The creature looked ancient, and she hadn't had the heart to evict it. It had lived here for ages and ages by the looks of it, and as it wasn't causing any harm she didn't see the point, or the right, of trying to get it to move. 

She remembered the gnome infestation in the Weasleys´ garden. Their gnomes would swear and yell and breed – well, like gnomes. But as the wrinkly thing seemed to live alone, she didn't think it much of a threat. This one seemed to have a large vocabulary, but it's dialect was so thick she couldn't understand any of it. The most common thing it said sounded like ”failte”, so she started calling him Old-Failte. It differed from the Weasleys´ gnomes not only by living outside of a rapidly growing population, but by dressing himself in a tattered green kilt. 

He never tried to bite her, or ripped the roots of her plants, and he had a white beard and long fluffy tufts of hair pointing out of his large ears. He looked more like the garden gnomes she had imagined as a child. Not like the naked, potato-looking things she had learn to associate with gnomes, after her arrival in the magical world.

She was making a mental note to show Old-Failte to Minerva later. She had a few hours to kill before Minerva´s visit later and decided to take a stroll in the crisp air. She inhaled deeply, the hairs in her nostrils tingled and curled upwards with every breath. The coldness of the air almost carried a scent of its own. She had come to love her little cottage in the woods, and the woods themselves. She walked to the nearby well, distinctly grateful of her magic. It probably wouldn't be as pleasurable if she had to drag pails of water with her. 

After returning to Beech Lodge she tried to get something to settle in her still upset stomach and sat by the grate to do some reading. Perhaps there was something to alter in the way she used the blood replenishing potion´s components in her own brewing. Getting her old textbook on advanced potions making and a copy of Moste Potente Potions she started combing through the recipes. 

\--

Hermione woke up from her nap in the armchair by the fire. There was a brisk knock on the door and Winky had already rushed over and was opening it, as she tried to adjust her eyes to the bright sunlight beaming in from behind the windows. The weather was still crisp in the late afternoon. Minerva stood in the doorway, wrapped in her tartan patterned traveling cloak, smiling widely. ”It's lovely to see you dear! And Winky, how are you?”. ”Yes, yes, I would love some tea Winky”. She said somewhat irritably to answer Winky's over enthusiastic offerings. ”Come now dear, are you feeling under the weather? You look pale”.

She hung her cloak on one of the heavy, wrought iron hooks nailed in on the back of the door. She sat down on the other armchair and glared at her, waiting for an explanation.

Winky brought them a tray she put down on pile of books between the chairs, that also served as a coffee table. She had baked Hermione's favourite cookies while she had been sleeping. ”Miss has been eating badly Mistress Headmistress McGonagall, for weeks now. She has a hard time with the things she used to like, and she gets ill often”. Winky looked at the Headmistress eyes bulging, willing for the old witch to understand, and a shocked look followed by a sly, knowing look spread on Minerva´s face. ”She works lots too, but that is a good thing. Work is important. Work is right”. After her statement the elf went out to water the greenhouse. 

”It is true Minerva, I have been feeling a bit under the weather. I am sure it's just a stomach flu and will pass soon. But I found that leech juice helps the potion to find the damaged tissues, but not as effectively as I had hoped for, I am currently testing on what is the most efficient way to prepare them, to keep that potency that draws it to the blood. I ordered a tank full of leeches from Diagon alley last week, but Hagrid was saying that the ones he grew himself , that originated in the Black Lake on the school grounds are better, so he's bringing me a tank in two days, just to compare the two”.

Hermione went on excitedly until she was cut off by a jaw shuttering yawn, and Minerva shot her a conspiratorial look. ”I'm sorry Minerva, I've been so tired. I've been working late nights with the leeches”. Minerva cleared her throat tentatively and said in a quiet voice, ”Hermione, dear. I need you to think carefully. -About your con-di-ti-on- for Merlin's sake!” She snapped sharply emphasizing every syllable, when Hermione looked baffled. She sat eyes wide looking at her as comprehension dawned, slowly but surely. No. It wasn't possible. It was only the once, only that one night. Oh gods. 

”Can you run a diagnostic spell for me, my hands are too shaky”, Hermione pleaded. Winky came in at that moment, leaving the watering can on the steps. ”There is no need Miss, Winky has known all along. She just waited for you find out. Soon there shall be a little Miss, Miss. Winky is so happy, Winky shall help”. At that moment Hermione felt the tea and cookies not agreeing with her and ran to the bathroom. She was violently ill, and almost missed the toilet. It couldn't be possible. How could she have been so stupid, she was supposed to be smart, clever! She hadn't even realised to miss her monthlies, being so preoccupied with her work. Minerva approached her carefully. ”Dear, I think it best we get you an appointment at St. Mungo's. I can come with you if you want. It is - his?”  Hermione nodded silently and burst into tears.

After she had calmed down she told Minerva of the origins of her predicament, and was relieved not to be judged or lectured. ”Dear, I've been young once, believe it or not, and I know that things happen often unexpectedly and unplanned. I believe what matters most is how you will deal with the situation at hand.” They went on talking and talking, Minerva sometimes nodding, hurumping or exclaiming something like ”well he's always been an arse!” and Hermione felt the warm love she felt at her former head of house magnifying ten fold. She decided on the spot that Minerva McGonagall would be a perfect godmother and the declaration brought up tears in the old witch's eyes.

They had talked in length about Minerva's history with Beech Lodge. She had inherited the place from her mother´s uncle. Minerva´s mother Isobel had been cut off by her parents for marrying a muggle, but her uncle Angus had not shared their strict views. Minerva had met her great uncle only once as a little girl, but cherished the memory dearly. Apparently the feeling had been mutual as he had left Minerva the cabin in Muir of Ord, Inverness, ih his last will and testament. Minerva had lived in the cottage after her graduation from Hogwarts. She had first moved to London, but after a short time left the city behind after a disastrous love affair with a muggle man. Beech Lodge had been her safe haven, getting over her heart-ache and apparating back to London every day to work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She hadn't inhabited the cabin for long, as after two years in the Ministry, utterly and completely fed up with her work there, she had left again for Hogwarts invited by Albus Dumbledore. 

Hermione had led Minerva to the garden after dinner, to meet Old-Failte, and Minerva was delighted to meet the old gnome again. She remembered him being as wizened in her youthful days, hazarding a guess that it had lived here for hundreds of years. She had explained that the creature spoke gaelic, but alas, she wasn't well versed in the language either. The word Failte she had  known, it meant ”welcome”. Hermione's heart melted for the age-old thing and she decided to find someone who did share the gnomes native tongue, she was intrigued on all the things Old-Failte had seen.


	7. St. Mungo's

St. Mungo's and chocolate  
27th of November, 1998

The air had gone to freezing sub-zero temperatures now. Snow had fallen and melted many times before a thin layer of white had settled permanently over Beech Lodge. Crookshanks ventured out less and less, spending his days lying lazily on the rug near the hearth, playing with the owl, Hugo. At first she had felt apprehensive that the squash-faced little beast would get too carried away, but it turned out that Hugo quite enjoyed it. Now he would regularly annoy Crookshanks until he gave up and started a game of tag or hide and go seek.

She had knitted, not nearly as fast or scrupulously as Winky, a small quilt for Old-Failte. He had accepted it mumbling ”Mòran taing”. Which she knew now to mean ”thank you”. She had not found, (nor had she looked for) an interpreter, so she had started to learn the language herself. When she had inquired the gnome´s name, he had been quiet for a long time, his face wrinkling while thinking, if possible, he was getting wrinkles on his wrinkless. After a long while had passed he had slowly formed the words ”Aon rud as cùimhne leam... No ainm, cha robh neach mu ruighe.” She had translated the sentence after returning inside. It roughly meant ”The thing I remember the most...No name, nobody within hailing distance.” She felt heart broken for his long loneliness, and decided that there would always be someone here at home, to holler the gnome's name from now on.

As her appointment in the afternoon drew closer the found herself cantering about, unable to concentrate on anything. Winky had made them camomile tea and they she had sat down for it in agonizingly nervous state, her fingers continually tapping the table top. ”Little Miss is fine, Miss. Winky can feel it. ” The elf had said with an assuring smile, taking Hermione´s hand and patting it gently. 

She had entertained the idea of leaving early and visiting Diagon Alley as the waiting started to get on her nerves, maybe browsing in Flourish and Blotts and getting a new book or five. Or getting some warm winter clothes, a thicker cloak for herself at least, but the idea of navigating the shopping district made her even more anxious. 

She sat now nervously in the waiting room of the maternity ward in St. Mungo's. She had told Minerva she could manage it unaccompanied, but was regretting it as she waited. Her palms were sweaty and the sounds coming from the rooms were muffled and echoing oddly in her ears. It smelled like hospital. The lights were so bright it hurt her eyes, she felt a migraine creeping on her right temple and settling to sting behind her right eye, but she couldn't leave now.

She had to know that it was true, that it was really, truly true. Had to to see it for herself.  A door opened and a prominently pregnant blonde witch walked out. The door remained open and in a few moments the healer called her in. ”Hello, Miss Granger. I am healer Merrytime, Janet Merrytime. How are we doing now? Let us start with a few questions and then we can move on to see how things are in there”. The healer patted her stomach with a simper that reminded her of Dolores Umbridge. She recoiled and braced herself answering the questions as they came. 

”It was the first of September”. ” No, he is not involved.”, ” I would rather not give out the name.”, ” No.”, ”No,thank you”.” A little morning sickness and some fatigue”. ”No cramps, no, I have not had any of those”. ”Yes I can manage, thank you very much, I have good relationships, good friends and a thoroughly dedicated house-elf”. ”  Yes I am aware of my young age”.” Yes, I am aware it will be rather harder as a single witch”, ”Yes I would like to see”. Then she became speechless. 

She watched as the human-shaped little thing rolled in to view. How peculiar. This little  entity floating on inside her. Growing. ”She shall be born 25th of May if the date is correct”, said the healer. ”Have you thought about the labour yet? Would you want to give birth here in the hospital, or at your home with a healer present?” ”At home”, Hermione replied without thinking about it. She couldn't imagine trying to do it here in the hospital. ”And here is the time for your next check-up, we shall meet again in the fourth of january Miss Granger”.

She walked out in a stupor. She didn't dare to apparate home, fearing she would splinch and damage the baby, and felt disorientated. The floo doesn't work. How will I get home?. She panicked. The familiar feeling of the world slowing down and stopping surrounded her. She was deafened by her own blood flow surging in her ears. Her breathing slowed down agonizingly and she couldn't remember how to exhale. Her lungs were going to burst. She could hear the the sparks of uncontrollable magic crackling at the ends of her hair and fingertips. Not here. Not here! 

Suddenly a hand grasped her arm. ”Hermione? You alright? What are you doing here?” It was Ginny. Hermione broke down and sobbed into Ginny's hair as Ginny hugged her. ”Lets go to Grimmauld´s”, Ginny said and whispered ”portus”, activating the red comb she had pulled out of her pocket. Hermione held on to Ginny for dear live as the portkey activated, landing in the kitchen of Grimmauld place. ”I always carry these now, they don't recommend apparating while pregnant so we have a hamper full of these little beauties”. ”Hermione what's wrong?” 

Once she was done crying, her face all red and swollen, she told Ginny about the baby. Ginny's mouth hung open as she took it all in. ”Him? When did this happen? OH! Oh Hermione! Of course I won't say anything to Harry and Remus”. They had talked and gossiped and indulged in Ginny's massive emergency stockpile of chocolate for hours, and finally she had thought about calling for Winky who had appeared with a small crack! and side-along-apparated Hermione safely back home. 

Hermione was already dreading the next time she would have Ginny and the rest of them over, having the make believe conversation in her head over and over again. Harry just wouldn't understand. She was sure of it. She had never before imagined having to tell her friends and loved ones about being pregnant, especially being pregnant alone. And she was embarrassed of the idea of having the same talk with Remus. They had become close friends now, but being pregnant hinted on certain activities she'd rather not discuss with him. Ever. 

How was one supposed to start a conversation about these things? ” Hi guys, come on in! By the way there is a new human-being growing inside me and you'll never guess who the dad is!”. What would her parents think if they were still alive? Would they be disappointed, angry, ashamed? Or would they be happy about their first grandchild, loving her as thoroughly as they had loved her? The latter, she decided. They had been such amazingly loving people, and she felt the loss of them more acutely than she had in months.

She was calling the baby ”she”, ”her” and ”the baby”. Thought it was too early to tell by the scanning spells or diagnostic charms, the way Winky kept talking about her ”little Miss” had made Hermione quite sure she was having a daughter. She had started thinking about names, but she hadn't found one. She had thought about calling the baby Helen, after her mother, but she didn't like the way the word tasted in her mouth. It always brought forth a pang of sorrow, and she wouldn't want her child seeing her face fall at the sound of her name. Hope, she had reasoned, could be nice. But it felt a bit corny. She had made a mental list of all the names she could think of, crossing over Bathilda, Eileen, and countless of others. She would have liked historical names of famous, powerful witches, or something meaningful to her, something she felt dearly about. 

She had to talk with Ginny about this, she had to have been thinking about these things too. Thank Circe for Ginny. She had now someone to talk with about all the strange new things her body went through and the worries they stirred up in her mind. How had she been so thick she hadn’t noticed she was pregnant? True, her period had been on and off ever since their hunt for the horcruxes, they had all become malnourished with the lack of food and rest and the bitterly cold weather in the tent. There had been days that they hadn’t found even mushrooms or berries, and all of them had been emancipated. Harry’s knees had been the widest part of his legs after they had finally won and Madam Pomfrey had had to fatten them up and give them large amounts of vitamix-potions for a long time.

 

The potion had taken a leap forward. Hagrid had been an immense help. He had been right for starters, the leeches he grew were more potent. They were smaller but more efficacious, and juiced just right they had solved the problem of targeting the damaged tissues. Next she had to overcome the fact that the coagulation in the bloodstream was still too risky. If she would get that to balance out, there were still the questions of the poor shelf life of the finished product, and the brewing time. It took a full week if she started from scratch, and would stay viable only for two days.


	8. Christmas

Christmas  
25.12.1998

It was snowing. Large flakes had covered the yard in a thick layer of pure, white snow in the night and dusted the windows. It was already dark outside. 

Hermione sat by the roaring fire sipping a steaming mug of ginger tea. Winky was out getting more firewood, as the elf was being pig headed, and had decided that carrying wood would not suit a woman in her state. They had let the snow engulf the yard in its entirety, shoveling only narrow lanes to get to the gate and appariotion point beyond it and to the wood piles and greenhouse. 

She was admiring a moving black and white photograph of a tiny black haired baby boy, tightly wrapped in an authentic Weasley quilt, surrounded by her happy and disheveled looking parents. Little Sirius had been born two days ago. He came over a month early, and was tiny, but strong and healthy. Harry was over the moon, beaming in the photo, finally having a real family of his own. Ginny was looking pale but beautiful, her face smiling a new, more gentle smile as she looked at her son. 

They had invited her to meet him as soon as Ginny could sit again. She felt a tiny bubble bursting in her abdomen, and instinctively knew, it was the baby moving. She beamed at her belly. She had to think of something to call her soon. ”Baby” felt a bit impersonal. 

Now that she had overcome the first shock and accepted the thought that she was going to become a mother, she was quite taken by the idea. She would stroke her slightly rounded abdomen, and hum the lullabys she had heard as a child. She hadn't still told anyone except for Ginny. Minerva and Winky knew of course, but as it wasn't noticeable yet to anyone besides herself, she felt it would be tactless to blurt it out in normal conversation. 

After her catastrophic exit from St. Mungo's she had reluctantly connected her floo to the network. Harry had flooed her the instant little Sirius was declared healthy by the healer handling the labour, and had owled her the picture, and a formal looking invitation to the naming ceremony held at New Year´s Eve, the following day . Molly must have jumped on this with nails and teeth, she could imagine her enthusiastic form dashing about, planning menus, printing invitations and going on a cleaning spree. 

”Miss shall come for dinner now”, Winky informed her as she was combing through the blood-replenishing potion´s recipe, wondering if changing the Polypody for Vervain would have the desired effect. ”Thank you, Winky”, she answered and sat down with the elf. ”Winky, I have been invited to a naming ceremony on New Year's Eve, and I haven't got a clue what you are supposed to wear in formalities like that, nor what to bring as a gift, would you mind helping me? I haven't got any robes other than the old school robes, and I don't think they quite suit the occasion”. Winky´s eyes became shiny with emotion and she clutched her knobly hands together. ”Miss, Winky shall be delighted to help, Winky shall find some alternatives, and Miss shall choose, what Winky shall sew for her!”

It was her first Christmas without her friends or her parents. She had been invited to Grimmauld´s for the celebrations, but Ginny going into labour had mixed up their plans. Being honest with herself, she was quite happy to spend the holiday without the awkward conversations she kept having in her head, knowing that they would have to had eventually. She had kept rehearsing what to say and how to look.

Hagrid and Minerva had brought  a tree from Hogwarts on the 20th accompanied by Neville. They only popped in shortly, as the ending term was keeping them busy for the next two days and they would all see each other again on New Year's Eve. The tree was smaller than the towering ones they had in the great hall, but it was perfect. It reminded her of the trees in christmas cartoons years ago. She could imagine a scene with Chip and Dale goofing inside it with candy canes and shining ornaments hanging from the branches. She conjured the decorations, draping the tree in shimmering candles, red baubles, gingerbread men and bullfinches. Ending in a star at the top.

She had gotten Winky a new set of kitchen utensils, knives and ladles and such, as the elf had been complaining about their condition. For Crookshanks and Hugo she had gotten their favourite treats, owl nuts and stinky, dried kippers. To Old-Failte she had taken a small flask of the local whiskey and woolly socks, she was sure to stuff them into his burrow just incase the knalrs would by chance awaken and interpret them wrong. Minerva´s, Hagrid´s and Neville´s she had given to them when they had delivered the tree. All of them had contained books, each in their own subject. To Harry and Ginny she had given Ginny´s favourite chocolates and tiny tiny clothes for the baby. Remus´ present had a book and Honeyduke´s milk chocolate bars. He was notoriously fond of the things, carrying them at all moments in his pockets. To Teddy she had given a small book she had written and illustrated herself, the protagonist being a teddy bear by the name of Teddy. She was thinking of making this idea in to a tradition. 

When she had opened her own gifts on Christmas morning she had been so emotional, she had had to swallow the lump in her throat down on several occasions and while blinking furiously - trying not to burst in to tears.Later she convinced herself that it had to be the hormones.

She had gotten several new tomes on magical creatures, potion brewing, magical plants and herbs, and potion ingredients from Minerva, Neville, Harry and Remus. Hagrid had gotten her homemade toffees, and a salamander, as she had been wondering if they had any other healing properties than their blood. Winky had given her new mittens, a hat, socks, long thick underdrawers and many other things to keep her warm. Her favourite was the grey woollen dress that came down to her calves, it was soft and warm and felt like a warm hug. She wore it now, with jean's and a long sleeved t-shirt underneath. Her trousers were stuffed into red leg warmers and she had too layers of woolly socks, under her felt boots. The floors were rather drafty and she had eaten so much all of her circulation seemed to occupied with the stomach, leaving her feet feeling cold and stiff.

They turned off all the lights save for the fire and the tree, and drank hot chocolate, she and Winky. Crookshanks was curled in her lap, purring slowly, extending his front paws gently, one after another, against her abdomen. They were listening quietly to carrols via the wireless she had ordered from one of her many mail order catalogues, neatly stacked in a drawer in the kitchen. 

A sudden lightning struck in her brain. She had been going about it all wrong, there was no need for coagulation at all, just infusing the essence of Dittany with the leeches, so it's properties of rapidly closing wounds would activate at the moment the leech juice guided it to the target areas. After that the blood-replenishing potion´s components could just regenerate the lost blood and the risk of embolism would not happen at all. She would remove the Yarrow from the concoction all together,and try it out.


	9. Names

Names  
31st of December, 1998

She was looking at herself in the mirror she had just conjured. She was nervous. The name-party at the Potters' was about to start, and she couldn't decide what to do with her hair. She kept pulling it up and letting it down again, each time accompanied by a groan. ”Miss shall look beautiful either way.” Winky exclaimed, doing some last minute re-adjustments to her hems.

Winky had made her cinnamon coloured , velvet dress robes for the occasion, that mostly resembled a muggle dress, with a long, soft woollen brass coloured shawl elegantly draping over her shoulders, and almost touching the ground. She could cover herself as much or as little as she wanted. When the shawl was around her, the shadows it cast made it impossible to tell the subtle signs of her small bump.

She flooed in a bit early, wanting to get there before the other guests would start to arrive, that way she could talk to her friends properly before they would be too occupied by others and she could stay still in a corner somewhere. They were closing their floo for the duration of the celebrations, and every one would have to apparate there and Hermione still wasn't feeling composed enough for that. Harry had sent some portkeys from the Ministry, one box full of ones that would take her home and other box with a small assortment of destinations such as St. Mungo's, Diagon Alley, Ministry and Hogwarts. 

She was now stuck on the sofa in the sitting room of Grimmauld place, wedged between a cooing Mr. Weasley cradling his first grandchild and Remus on the other side, Ginny perched on the armrest next to her father. Hermione was holding Teddy as they both looked in awe at the black haired baby, suckling on his fist and staring at his grandfather with wide, green eyes. Hermione had been given the honor of being godmother to Sirius James Arthur Potter, who was the spitting image of his father. 

Ginny had really done a number to the place, Hermione couldn't believe it was same dilapidated mouldy old house that used to be the headquarters of the Order. The building itself had absorbed dark magic for decades, maybe hundreds of years, that had felt like a living, malevolent entity. The Black family had been purebloods from the start, meaning that they had intermarried their own relatives for so long their line had become very unstable. They said when a Black was born it was flip of the coin whether they would end up mad or powerful, in many cases both. Bellatrix and Sirius´ mother Walburga had been great examples of the Black madness.

Potter Townhouse bore no resemblance to the old Black Manor. There was no trace of the humid air, or the earthy smell of mold. The hallways were painted in a light tone that brought tea roses to mind and lit brightly. The stairwells had framed photos of all their family and loved ones. Long gone were the severed elf heads and other similar atrocities. Ginny had gone such a thorough job she could probably work as a cursebreaker now. It had the feeling of a loving home now, Old Sirius would have been happy to see it like this.

Neville had surpassed himself with their garden. Harry and Ginny had hoped, that the yard would be re-done with little Sirius and Teddy in mind, so Neville had put sandbox and some swings in. The large chestnut on the back of the yard bore now an elaborate treehouse. All the flowers he had planted were harmless and beautiful, entering the little garden was like stepping into a day dream. 

Neville had brought Hannah Abbot as his date and they looked enamoured with each other. Neville´s hard work had boosted his confidence, and he wasn't the blushing, fumbling mess everyone had gotten used to. The teachers were praising him to anyone who would listen and his grandmother seemed very pleased. ”Well naturally, he is his father son”, she would answer, puffing her chest out proudly

The library and sitting room were so warm and airy that Hermione almost had to pinch herself, how could this be the same house? The presence of unholy, twisted magic had seeped from the books and furniture before, but it was now a place to behold, a place to enjoy. 

She had met more people today than in months, and the hustle and bustle of the guests made her wonder, had Molly invited everyone she had ever met, or had she herself turned into a hermit. It seemed everywhere she went her was shaking hands, answering questions and finding it more and more terrifying. 

Draco had come to say hello. It was an awkward conversation in the beginning. He had wanted to apologise about all the things he had done and said to her during their time in Hogwarts. He seemed to be a new man, more humble, and he looked quite nice without his trademark sneer. After the somewhat cumbersome beginning, she had found herself quite enjoying his company. 

He talked of his efforts trying to get the name of Malfoy out of the mud. In addition to his career choice as an auror, he had started various charities, including the one that was paying her orphan's pension. He had not wanted to return to Malfoy Manor. The time it was used as Voldemort´s headquarters had tainted all his memories of the place. He had sealed it off, awaiting for his mother to get out of Azkaban. It was her home always, if she so wanted, but Draco couldn't stomach it anymore, and had bought a flat in Diagon alley.

He had surprised her, being witty and funny, and maybe even a bit charming and they had agreed to meet for tea to discuss her potion in more detail, ”I'll floo-call you!” He had hollered, as Kingsley had arrived and dragged Draco of, wanting to introduce him to a few rising stars at the Ministry  
Hermione had decided to give little Sirius a book. Yes, she was going to be that  kind of a godmother, but in her defence, it was a  really good book. It was beautifully illustrated, and she gave it with vows, that they would be reading it together. She had held Sirius for a while before George, who demanded to be addressed Uncle George, had whisked the boy away.

The house was now packed with guests, you couldn't move without bumping and grazing against people and Hermione felt unnerved by the loud chatter of voices, but thankfully Remus had handed her Teddy as he was exchanging pleasantries with Minerva and Bill. Remus seemed to know that holding Teddy calmed her a great deal, and she was very grateful, that she hadn't had to ask. She had had a hard time avoiding eggnog and all the toasts to baby Sirius, hiding them in bookshelves, flowerpots and forgetting them repeatedly on tabletops. 

Suddenly she saw Ron approaching them awkwardly, dragging Luna behind him. Remus had got up in search of some more of Mrs. Weasley's mince pies and Luna settled herself in his empty space. Luna was wearing bright yellow robes, similar to the ones she had worn in Bill´s and Fleur's wedding. Luna´s vacant eyes seemed to wander about the room distractedly. Ron had quickly nodded to Hermione and he and Harry were already deep in animated conversation just a few feet away when Luna said in Hermione's ear, ”Did you know there are nargles in that mistletoe? They say that May-born witches will marry muggles, but I don't think she will. We we will be having twins in the year after next. I miss you Hermione.” Then she had spotted Professor Flitwick and skipped away in his direction. Hermione was dumb struck. Had all of Luna´s gibberish been this accurate during the time they had known each other? Could Luna be a true seer? She had despised divination at school, but wondered if it had been so, if Luna had taught the subject. 

It was getting late and she felt spent. She had been here for hours, trying to say pleasant things to people as the tension kept rising in her shoulders and neck. She had moved towards the hall way for the last half an hour, being stopped to say her goodbye´s to Remus, Harry and Ginny, all of the Weasleys, greeting random order members and old professors. She had been fingering the portkey in the hidden pocket on her sleeve for a while now, anxiously waiting to leave without seeming rude. 

Kreecher was in the entry hall, handling the guests´ cloaks and coats. As she was waiting for the elf to hand out her´s, she glanced up to the upper landing and saw Snape standing there stiffly, regarding her with an unreadable look on his sallow features, eyes watching her searchingly, as the conversation he held with Professor Slughorn and Draco Malfoy clearly forgotten. She grabbed her coat from Kreacher´s outstretched hands, delivered a hastily thank you, and rushed out without donning in on. The portkey´s familiar sucking and whirling whisked her away, and she landed on her hands and knees, panting rapidly on the snow covered pathway of her sanctuary. 

Stars shone brightly on the cloudless sky and she drew the bitterly cold air in, and out of her lungs. In, and out, in and out. She rose slowly feeling the nervousness that had came over her easing up slightly. Somewhere in the far distance she could hear the fireworks and see their dim light near the horizon. 

She stumbled inside and put the wards up. ”Is Miss alright? Miss shall need a bath and some tea and toast, come on Miss”. The worried looking elf lead her to the bathroom, and helped her out of her robes as the water slowly filled the tub. ”Winky, I think we'll go with Minerva.” It sounded more like a question than a statement. ”Oh yes. Mistress Headmistress shall be honoured to share the name with the little Miss, Miss”.


	10. Minerva's letters

Minerva´s letters  
22.1.1999

She had just knocked her pumpkin juice over with her protruding belly trying to sit down at the table for breakfast, as a  sharp tapping behind the kitchen window drew her attention. There was an owl sitting on the snow covered window sill. She let him in, shared her yet untouched bacon between them and took his letter. It was short, and written in a haste.  

Dear Hermione  
A situation has risen up, and I need your counsel in handling it. Severus barged in my office this morning, seeking of a way to contact you. What shall I say to him?  
\- Minerva

Shit. Shitshitshit. Balls. Her reply was quickly written, as it only had seven words.

Dear Minerva,  
You can tell him no.   
\- Hermione.

Bloody people with their bloody parties and bloody guests. She paced around with Minerva´s letter crushed in her white knuckled fist. Seeking to contact her. Why? What would he have to say? She didn't want to know. How dare he disturb her friends, trying to find her. What an utter arse! He had no right. That arrogant bastard could choke on his greasy hair for all she cared. She cared. Oh, how she had cared.

It had happened slowly, un-noticed at first. She couldn't pinpoint the start. She had cared for all her patients, but as they got fewer and fewer, and she had more leisure time, she found herself often reading to him. She hadn't been sure what he had thought of it. But he hadn't asked her to leave or hexed her, so she continued.

He wasn't able to speak. He had communicated by waving his wand, his words appearing on the small blackboard kept on his night stand. He would write answers to their questions about his symptoms, and progress, but other than that, he barely ever wrote anything. But he would listen to her read, never looking bored or angry, but somehow wistful. 

She had wondered if he was feeling empty and meaningless. He had worked for so long to bring Voldemort down, worked to save Harry, so Harry would survive and now it was all over. She would have wanted to ask if he was happy, having fulfilled his goals, but the look in his eyes, like he was utterly pointless and lost had prevented her. 

She had told him of the final battle, of Voldemort's downfall and how it all had played out after they had left him for dead in the shack. She begged for his forgiveness over and over again, until one night he had written, I forgive you, Miss Granger, please stop torturing me with your apologies. She had taken his hand and he hadn't pulled it away but let it rest there. They had fallen asleep like that, joined at the fingertips. She had found strange solace in the silent man, even when he had been kept unconscious. His presence had calmed her deeply and given her a reason to go on.

They had spent day after day together, as she was adamant in getting him up and about, first starting with just a few supported steps at the time, finally walking the corridor of the hospital wing and into the grounds. He still had a hard time speaking. He could do it, yes, but it strained his throat and he would become raspy and wheezy quickly. They were often silent. But they seemed not to need the words. She could read his obsidian eyes and small gestures so expertly it seemed she was performing legilimency on him. 

They had come accustomed walking arm in arm, comfortable in each others presence. Three months had passed. She had dreamed of kissing him for the last two. More often than not she had slept on the rocking chair by his bedside. Somehow, un-noticed her feelings towards him had become more and more complex, less and less healer patient feelings, or ex-student ex-teacher feelings.

 

And too soon it had been time for him to get discharged. Minerva had offered him his old job back, whichever he wanted, both the potions and the defence post was open for him if he so willed, but he didn't want them.

He had packed his suitcases to leave one rainy thursday morning. She had walked him to the gates. He had stopped, standing silently next to her, looking at her with unreadable eyes. His voice had been raspy and low, when he had uttered ”Hermione, thank you.” and pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead, his soft lips pressing against her skin, his hands running through her hair softly and she had felt the rush of warmth expand inside her. As they had leaned on each other lightly and she felt the familiar tingling tension in her stomach. She had felt him tremble, his breath hitching. An involuntary whimper escaped her lips. 

He had pulled swiftly away and then he was gone. He had disapparated just outside gates in a flurry on black robes. She had staggered back inside the castle, tears blurring her vision, her own name ringing in her ears, whispered by him. She had made her way to her rooms and felt emptiness engulf her. There was nothing left. Her heart was collapsing on itself, and she had shut herself in her rooms for three weeks. He had left. He had left her. She felt stupid, naive. He hadn't cared for her the way she did for him, what had ever given her the impression he would? 

–

The school had been full of wizards and witches all summer long. There were repairs to be done before the school could re-open. She tried to get used to the thought of staying here, to re-do her seventh year, but she had started to get the attacks. The horrible images. Everything slowed down around her until she would collapse when she tried to leave her rooms. 

The first time she passed out was in the place where Fred had died. Time had stopped and the echo of the violent blasts during the battle howled in her ears. She felt her consciousness caving inwards, like she was slowly zooming out on herself. Her mind moved tightly inside itself, clenching in like a collapsing black hole. She felt electricity thrumming in her veins and pins and pricks across her skin. A tingling heaviness had taken over her hands, a downwards pulling magnet . Bright sparks had issued painfully from her hair and fingers, burning her skin and when she finally had woken up the corridor looked as if it had been burnt. Some of the walls around her had cracked from floor to ceiling and she was horrified by what she had done. What if something like happened when she was around people? Having uncontrollable bursts of violent magic accompanying the trauma she bore made her a risk to others. 

-

The school had started to feel like a cold belly of some ancient evil beast. It was too big, too noisy. Too much. She couldn't keep an eye on everything, how could she ensure this never happened again? Winky had brought her meals and would report to the headmistress on her (lack) of progress. Then in the beginning of August Minerva had knocked on her door and suggested that she could arrange for her to take her exams now, without sitting the classes and that she had a place for her to go to, if she wished to leave. She would just have to sit tight for a month. 

She could leave for the isolation of Minerva´s old cottage right after the reopening of Hogwarts at the start of term, and the memorial service held afterwards. She could study for the next weeks for her exams, and then go. Hermione took on the offer as she had no other place to go. Her parents had sold her childhood home when they were leaving for Australia. She felt like a terrible failure. A charity case. Broken and unhinged, dangerous even, something to be hidden deep in the woods where no-one could see the cleverest witch of her age, a ghost of her former self. A war hero. A war orphan. A nutcase. She felt stupid, naive. Who would ever want to be near her. She couldn't even walk down a corridor without breaking down.

Minerva had sent another letter that simply read ”He insisted.” and underneath he had scribbled

I need you see you, urgently.  
Severus Snape lives in the last house of Spinner's End, Cokewall.  
S


	11. Men!

Men!  
29.1.1999

The check-up on the fourth had went fine, the baby was growing as she should and Hermione´s nausea had finally subsided. Healer Merryweather had annoyed her nearly as much as last time and she prudenly took the journeys port keying in and out. She felt much more energetic now she could properly eat again and worked with her potion from morning to night. She had tweaked it and tweaked it until all seemed to be in order. It worked as it was designed to work, at least in theory. There was always a difference between analyzing diagnostic spells and making arithmantic equations and using in it on  real patients. She was still troubled by the poor shelf life and had tried many different preservatives, but none of them worked as she needed. 

–

She sat on the rug by the fire next to Remus. They had came over earlier, Harry, Ginny, baby Sirius, Remus and Teddy, and had the very awkward conversation about her blessed state, which was starting to show. Harry had finally relented on demanding to know the father, after she had reassured him that the said act, that had lead to the situation at hand, had been completely voluntary and that she had her own reasons for keeping the father's identity as her own information. 

Harry and Ginny had left when it was Sirius´nap time, as he woke up many times during the night, they too would enjoy the chance of sorely needed rest. Teddy had fallen asleep on her bed, where Winky was sitting and knitting, keeping an eye on the slumbering boy.

”So- umm. Is Ron-”, Remus had tentatively started, but Hermione cut him off.  ”Ron is not the father Remus, and I would appreciate you not prying on about this. All you need to know is that he is not involved.” Remus looked taken aback, and took her hand in his own. ”Look, I know you can handle this, if anyone can, it's you. I just want you to know that we're here for you, I'm here for you”. He had lifted her hand to his lips as he spoke and now pressed his lips on her knuckles. 

”Remus, I-”, she was interrupted. He suddenly leaned in to press his mouth on hers. He moved his hand to cup the back of her head, pulling her closer as he thrust his tongue beyond her lips, to meet her´s. It felt nice. She had been ignoring her growing need to be held, to be touched. But it's Remus. It didn't excite her in the way she felt it excite him, she could feel his whole body trembling, it was just nice. She let her fingers  examine his chest as he sucked her lower lip in to his mouth, biting it gently. There was no spark in it, not for her, but gods how she had missed snogging.

After minutes of more and more frantic kissing ,they pulled out of it as Teddy moaned in his sleep, both of them panting and blushing. ”So how's the new job?” She instantly blurted out in a high-pitched squeal, wanting to distract him, to give her time to gather her thoughts. ”Oh my gods im sorry Hermione, I-I don't know what made me do it. Sorry, I'm sorry, we have to go.” He spouted out and hurriedly lifted Teddy in his arms and left, leaving the door open behind him. Winky went to close it and said shrewdly ”Mr. Lupin forgot his cloak and nappy bag. Tea, Miss?”

\----

”He snogged you? No way! Was it good? Spill it Hermione, I haven't had any since Christmas and Remus is fit.” Ginny yelled as she spun in the fireplace. She was grinning like a maniac. ”Come on, Sirius is with Harry and I want to hear every sordid detail.” She waited eagerly and Hermione gave in. ”We were sitting right there”, Hermione pointed on the rug. ”And he was trying to get me to tell about – well, you know, him. And he said that he would be there for me and then he kissed me.” ”Aaaaand?”, Ginny was twirling her hands towards herself in large circles. ”Well how was it?”

When she had told Ginny, that it had been nice, just nice, the redhead had sank on the armchair, arms folded against her chest. ”Well he's in a right fit about it. A ”dirty old man assaulting his young beautiful friend” is how he put it” Ginny said with a chuckle. ”He was ripping his hair out, and banging his head on the kitchen wall and he's not old! He only thirty-eight!”

After they had gone through the whole thing multiple times, giggled and felt sorry for Remus, Hermione told Ginny that Draco was coming over tomorrow. ”Just for tea, Ginny you're unbelievable! He's coming over because he is really good at potions and was really interested in the research when we talked at your party.”

”Remus is going to be heart broken you know, you swapping him in a man half his age.” Ginny snickered. ”But say what you will Hermione, Remus is still fit.”

Tossing and turning in her bed later, she thought about Tonks, and what she would say if she knew her husband had kissed her. The idea made her insides churn. What had Remus been thinking? Did he really find her attractive or was it just a weird, spontaneous accident? He must miss being touched as much as she was missing it herself, who could blame him? The next time they'd see each other would be painfully  awkward. What if he was so freaked out about it that they couldn't be friends anymore? Maybe she ought to write him in the morning. It had been nice though – snogging. 

–- – 

She woke up utterly unrested. Little Minerva had done something that involved  pinching and jabbing her bladder half the night, and she had had to get up to pee - twice. She looked around for Winky, but the elf was apparently outside. She went to the kitchen and brewed coffee on the small moka pot. Maybe they should buy a cow and some hens, milk was running low again. No she came to think of it, she had no clue where Winky got their groceries. She made a mental note to ask about it later. Sipping her coffee she looked out the back window and wondered if Hagrig could help her put a small chicken coop in the yard. It would be nice to watch the plump birds trotting around and doing whatever it was that chicken did. And she'd get some fertilizer from them too. Yes. Definitely some chicken. A cow would maybe be too much. 

There was a tap on the window and Harry´s new owl Ingrid was sitting there waiting to get in the warm cabin. The air was freezing, and she gave the bird some of Hugo´s owl nuts and fresh water. She was surprised to see Remus´ handwriting  and opened the letter with apprehension.  
Hermione  
I am so, so, sorry. I feel terrible about what happened, are you alright? I assure you that I will never lose control like that again. You are immensely important to me and to Teddy and I can't believe I just forced myself upon you like some randy animal. I hope you can forgive me.  
Yours  
Remus

She wrote a quick reply. Honestly! He was being so dramatic. 

Dear Remus   
I'm fine, you didn't do anything wrong, it was just a kiss. You have nothing to apologise for, everything is fine I promise. I adore you and Teddy. Please come over soon.  
Yours   
Hermione

She tied the rolled up bit of parchment to Ingrid´s leg, and watched as the owl got smaller and smaller before vanishing in the morning sky.

Draco flooed in, in the afternoon as they had agreed. They drank tea, cramped closely together, piles of her notes towering around them. She was showing him her research diaries and the way she  ran the diagnostics and they were talking animatedly about different preservatives she could use to prolong the shelf live. 

The conversation moved to more personal matters after a while. The world had changed for Draco almost over night once the war was over. Both his parents were in Azkaban, him being freed of all charges, the Wizengamot being lenient with him as he had been under-age and under coercion and in threat of being murdered himself if he had not complied. He missed his mother, talking about her with a warm look on his grey eyes. He never mentioned Lucius. He didn't ask about her parents either, as the head of his war orphan pension programme, and as a former death eater, he probably knew all about it.

He had grown up practically a part of wizarding royalty, being a Malfoy, a member of the Sacred Twenty-eight, but now more often than not, the name was more of a hindrance. Some people were understanding enough, but some spat him on the face when he was out shopping, and some businesses declined service. He was trying to make a name for himself as his own person, without being associated with death eaters, blood purists or Gringott’s vaults bulging with dirty gold that his father had used buying off politicians and Ministry officials. He had started many trusts and funds and a few charities, using the reparations to do something good, and to ease his conscience. 

Hermione felt really sorry for him. People were being cruel. They had been kids, thrown to the battlefield, used as pawns by Voldemort - and Dumbledore. Dumbledore, he had been no better – she had lost all her love for the great wizard when she had realized they had been just pieces of meat to him, characters in a perverted game, manipulated and used and sacrificed at his will.  Greater good indeed. How much it had cost.

”Harry´s been great about it really”. He said. ”We were going for lunch last week, starving after the dueling session we just had, in a small place in Diagon Alley and the bloke wouldn't let me in, not serving for death eater scum, you see, and Harry told him that the golden, chosen-boy-who-lived wouldn't want to eat in a run down shithole like that anyway and dragged me away, the look on the bloke's face, his jaw is in still on the floor somewhere”. He laughed. ”You're not scum Draco, I can't believe people, this isn't why we fought. Not to get more prejudiced. People can be just complete arses!” She huffed, making him smile. 

They had transfigured one of armchairs in to a large, squishy sofa and were sitting cross-legged facing each other, Winky bringing them more tea now and again. She hadn't been able to talk to any one like this in ages, she was relaxed, she didn't have to think up what so say or how to sound normal. Draco was talking openly about how the war had affected him and made her feel at ease. He made her feel normal. 

She squealed as a sharp nudge hit her bladder. ”Oh it's just the baby kicking”, she said and blushed fiercely. Even telling Draco about little Minerva was easy. He was surprised, but not in a way that made her feel ashamed or defensive. ”Can I feel it?” He had asked looking sincerely curious, and she had  placed his hand on her rounded belly on top her shirt, lifting her woolly dress high. The baby was kicking right at his hand, and by the look of his face, he was feeling the little nudges and taps. ”Wow, that's amazing.” He said under his breath, looking at her stomach with awe. 

They talked for hours and hours, eating dinner at the couch, Winky not harassing them to come and at the table as usual and after they had realized it was well over midnight, he started to leave. ”I had a great time Hermione, thank you.” He kissed her cheek and smiled. ”Hope to see you soon again”. He said and spun away in green flames.  

What's going on? First Remus and and now Draco. Two men had kissed her in two days. Was she sucreeding some weird pheromone? She felt the blush creeping into her face, Draco´s peck on her cheek had made her whole body rush with a warmth, made her insides tingle. It was more than nice, it had been exciting. She could still smell his lingering scent in the air, peppermint and parchment. She actually liked him.


	12. Restless

Restless  
18th of February 1999

The weather was still cold but the sun was brighter and days were lengthening again. Her greenhouse was blooming beautifully and she got endless delight out of bustling about in it, watering, pruning and fertilizing her plants. She had ordered a large batch of worms, her roses needed the squirmy creatures to keep the soil well ventilated, and she had taken a handful to Old-Failte, as she was concerned of the gnome´s food supply running low. She didn't want to push her company too much on the wrinkled old thing, but he seemed to be quite content conversing with her shortly once or twice a week.

Draco had come by several times during January, and popped in at least four times a week now, their ”friendship” reaching a point that it was hard not to call it dating. Her belly had grown in way, that even a good natured liar wouldn't be able not to say something about it and Draco adored it, showering it with affection. They would spend a lot of time curled up together in the transfigured sofa, both deeply absorbed in their own respectable books, twining the fingers of their book-free hands together. 

Life was really good now, she thought, staring at his grey eyes moving rapidly line after line, his left hand stroking her stomach gently, setting off goosebumps when his hands wandered too close to her over sensitive ribs. He made her feel electric in a good way, not the way she did during her episodes, but in sweet, warm and yearning way.  

Winky thoroughly accepted Draco, being genuinely nice for him. She kept saying how it warmed her heart to see her Miss so happy. And how he clearly adored the Little Miss, had won her over absolutely. The only thing that rubbed Winky slightly the wrong way, was the fact that Draco wanted to cook sometimes. It had surprised Hermione, Draco had grown up surrounded by servants, not even knowing where his meals came from, but he had found it relaxing once he had moved out from the Manor, something he had complete control over. 

Her potion was finished. She had added Rosemary oil extract, grapefruit seed extract and other antioxidants to the mix, extending the viability to a full month. The brewing time was still seven days, there was no helping that, but now it would be reasonably possible to stack small batches of it in a hospital, rather then start brewing it when was needed, as the patient would require it now, not next week. Now she needed to come by with a name. St. Mungo's was testing and analyzing it now, and it would start it's official healing trials in two weeks time.

–

Things with Remus had quickly returned normal, after they had had a good talk about it. Remus swore his feelings for her were purely friendly and he didn't seem to harbour any resentment for her new  relationship with Draco. She had played hide and go seek with Teddy who was rising up on his feet, but not walking yet. She would hide under a blanket on the floor and and a delighted Teddy would stand up, neck craning high like a little mongoose, spotting her, squealing loudly and crawling fast on all fours to remove her cover. Teddy was calling her ”Herni”. He could also say Harry, Daddy, Inny, Siri and Wkeetur – (meaning Kreecher) and milk. 

He was almost brothers with baby Sirius, spending everyday together, always being gentle and kind to his smaller companion. Ginny was thinking of making one of the third floor bedrooms as a nursery, where they could play and sleep, when they would get older. Teddy's metamorphmagus abilities had evolved, him changing his hair colour with his moods now. Around Hermione his head was always a mop of frizzy curls, but varying from bright pink to assortment of browns and turning blue when he was getting tired and ready for his nap.

Teddy was fascinated by her belly. He would lie quietly, pressing his ear against her round abdomen, eyes shining and giggling when ever little Minerva would move. He would quietly babble to the baby in her stomach in a low voice usually falling asleep on her lap, like he had done ever since he was born.  She realized, that she and Ginny were probably the closest thing Teddy had to a mother, hoping that Teddy would become as close to little Minerva and he was with little Sirius. They were a family now, and she was happy for her child, that she could have something similar to siblings. Hermione had felt a bit disappointed, not getting brothers and sisters of her own, and had always felt jealous for the Weasleys for their big and bustling family.

The Weasley family was growing rapidly. Breeding like gnomes, Aunty Muriel had said once and again. Sirius had just been born and George and Angelina were now expecting, as were Bill and Fleur. Percy was getting married next summer with his long standing girlfriend Penelope Clearwater and Ron and Luna were talking about tying the knot. Funny how there always is a baby boom after a war. In ten years Hogwarts would be filled with new witches and wizards if her friends and acquaintances were any indicator.

–

 

Now that the potion was finished she reasoned that she could take a well earned vacation of sorts, planning to read and soak in a tub and loiter around the house going nothing, but it was hard. Her fingers were itching for something to do, she was eagerly waiting for the snow to melt and spring to start so she could plant a few new things in the garden and maybe build that henhouse. It was a weird obsession, the hens. But she had already planned everything, and made blueprints and even named the hypothetical chickens. 

She was filled with energy and becoming restless. Could she come up with something new to brew? The salamander Hagrid had given her was curled happily in the fire, as she had not had the heart to use it as a component in potions, but let it roam free in the house. It was usually either in the fireplace or in the wood-burning oven in the kitchen. It had shed its skin last week, and she had collected the shriveled thing in a jar not knowing what to do with it. She hadn't found anything on salamander skins in her potion book nor her magical creatures books. They weren't usually kept around like this, but used rather quickly, making their lifespan very short. Well maybe she could just look a it for a bit, just for leisurely and relaxing activities, she couldn't just lie around from morning until night. 

Winky scolded her often on not resting enough, but Winky was secretly very proud of Hermione´s grasp on working. Miss knows working is right, the elf kept thinking and smiled, always making sure there was enough healthy snacks around and making her take a small break every two hours.  

Winky kept knitting and knitting, no longer hiding her finished items. Little Minerva would have a full cupboard of clothes when she was born. Winky had made long slings for carrying the baby about, one for Hermione, and one for herself. The elf also started weaving a sort of crib out wicker. It was elliptical in shape, with high edges. It would be hanging from one the girders in the ceiling being a perfect napping place being away from the drafty floor. 

Minerva was visiting on the last saturday of the month, bringing with her a wizarding camera. ”I expect to get many pictures of my goddaughter once she has arrived”, she said smiling warmly. Then the old witch cleared her throat tentatively and said, ”But I have had some things in my mind and I would like to address them frankly, even though I know it might be uncomfortable for you. I wonder dear,  have you given any thought on what kind of a relationship your daughter - my goddaughter, shall have with her father. I know you may think I'm overstepping, but dear – word gets out, people talk, it's bound to happen, and I wonder are you going to tell him about his child yourself, or wait that he hears it somewhere and puts two and two together himself? He was never stupid you know. What are you going tell to the girl about her father? Surely you're not going to lie to the child? No matter how things are between the two of you she has a right to know where she comes from, who she is. And I think he too has a right to know about her, and pursue some sort of relationship with her if he so wills. Fathers mean a great deal to their daughters, could you imagine what it would have been growing up without your father?”

She was lying awake in her bed that night, staring in to the ceiling, thinking restlessly. Minerva was right. Minerva was always right. She was thinking about her father, the impact and influence he had had in her life, and couldn't imagine who she would have grown up to be without him. Richard Granger had been a gentle, quiet man, always absorbed in his books, if he had not been there, would she had thought herself odd for her love of books, having no-one showing her that it was normal, or perhaps she wouldn't have cared for books at all and enjoyed baking instead, growing up to be the Chosen one´s heavier sidekick, apron pockets filled with cookies and cakes, fighting Voldemort with sugary treats and a rolling pin instead.

She had been avoiding the whole subject in her head. She had known she'd had to tell him eventually, it was just never a good time. Maybe he knew already and wanted nothing to do with the whole matter. Well if he decided he wanted nothing to with them, it was his decision, it would make everything simpler in way. But if he did, she would have to tell her friends about it, had to tell Draco. Oh gods, what was he going to think.


	13. Decisions

Decisions  
14th of March 1999 

The scent of spring was in the air, snow had melted and new green sprouts had emerged in the garden, where ever she looked. Daffodils, bluebells and rhododendrons were starting to bloom. The knarls had emerged from under the compost. Their nest wasn't empty though. As the adult ones kept foraging for worms and roots near their tunnel, Hermione had counted at least three babies, pink and still without their sharp spines.

She had seen Old-Failte too, wandering slowly about, standing still and looking at the surrounding woods, or sitting on top the garden wall, bathing in the warm sunlight. Crookshanks was wandering the great outdoors again and had clearly come to an understanding with the ancient gnome. Sometimes he would join Old-Failte on top of the wall, both sitting in silence, the gnomes wrinkly hands stroking his tail absentmindedly.  

The potion had started testing at the hospital, it had been needed just once so far, but the report the healers had sent her indicated, that it had worked just as it should. She was so pleased about it, making something that would actually help, and wondered what she could do next. The salamander skin had proven to hold similar powers to salamander blood, it had healing and rejuvenating qualities but it seemed to be more potent. The blood could also be used in strengthening potions and she pondered in what use to put this new information she had acquired. She had written to Hagrid about her findings, asking him if he could collect for her some of the shedded skins of his own, much larger collection. She also inquired whether some help setting up a chicken coop would be asking too much.

Her latest check-up at St. Mungo's had gone well, baby Minerva was strong and perfect and she hadn't even gotten annoyed by healer Merryweather´s simpering voice and handsy approach. Her stomach was big now, and she had started to understand Ginny´s eagerness to get her body back. Little Minerva was kicking about, doing cartwheels and somersaults and seeming to be more athletic that Hermione herself had ever been.

–

Her morning coffee had been interrupted by an owl from Ginny.

Hermione  
You won't believe what happened just now! Just now! Harry and Remus had a row with Snape! Snape turned up an hour ago, and started demanding to know how to get a hold of you, and as Harry and Remus didn't want to tell the greasy git anything without your permission, he had a right old fit! I was in the library with Teddy and Sirius and listened to the whole thing from the landing, and I didn't need any extendable ears! If it's okay, I'll pop in later when Harry gets home to watch Sirius.  
Love you,   
Gin

Ginny had arrived a few hours later, baby Sirius in tow, not wanting to wait until Harry came from work, and they had a long talk about Snape´s sudden appearance at 12 Grimmauld place. Hermione was upset about the whole business, bursting with rage. How dare he stalk her friends, why did he want to talk to her now? ”He must be really desperate to talk to you, coming up to our place. It's not like they're friendly, Harry and Snape, you know. I wonder why now?”. Ginny's eyebrows curled up in thinking. 

She was holding the sleeping boy in her arms, breastfeeding him until he had fallen asleep, trying now to pry her nipple out of the tiny mouth, but he was suckling so hard it just wouldn't budge. ”Merlin´s sodding old left nut, I think my tit must be in his stomach by now, get off!” She huffed under her voice, finally getting the mammary out, baby Sirius smacking his lips loudly and reaching at it again. She quickly covered her breast with her hand, slipping it back in her shirt, looking victorious. ”He takes after his father”, she said winking her eye at Hermione and wiggling her eyebrows vigorously when Hermione pulled a face. 

”Speaking of tits and men, how's Draco at – you know?” She said waiting eagerly for Hermione´s answer. ”Oh Ginny, I don't want to talk about my...things!” Ginny looked disappointed and arranged her face in a sulk. ”Fine! He is really really good. Like really good.” Hermione said grudgingly. 

Draco was her fourth and he was nothing like the awkward, fast fumblings with Ron in the tent while on the run, under hurriedly cast silencing charms when it had been Harry's turn to keep watch. Nor was it like the times with Harry after Ron had left. With Harry it had been intense, a way to keep warm in the blistering cold and a way to keep sane. It had been a rough and a desperate love, not romantic, but love for existence, warth and protection and caring. A wordless promise to keep each other safe, willing each other to survive the war. 

Ginny had not beared any resentment because of it, she had known herself the solace one could find in the arms of others. She had had a similar arrangement with Neville during the time Harry, Hermione and Ron had been hunting for the horcruxes, and they had kept Dumbledore's army going and had been grateful they all had made it, after Harry´s confession about it, the night they had won the war. That was the night Sirius had been conceived - at their hasty reunion, Harry going back to retrieve more injured and fallen right after they had re-started their relationship.

–

Hermione had been walking every day, in the awakening spring. It calmed her nerves and it seemed to calm down little Minerva too. Crookshanks would follow her on these walks, sometimes trodding by her side, sometimes wandering of for a bit and returning out of nowhere. The woods and meadows were bathing in warm sunlight, only a few patches of snow lying on the ground, deeper in the forest. She found the open scenery soothing her mind, she had been obsessing about telling him about the baby. 

Suddenly she saw someone moving on the other side of the meadow, waving at her. It was Luna. How on earth was she here? Luna approached her walking fast, sometimes skipping and prancing, collecting the wild blue-bells in a basket she kept in her left hand. ”Hermione, it is good to see you! I've missed you a lot, but now you are ready to see people again. I have been apparating around, looking for blue-bells, the nargles are very attracted to them.”

They kept slowly walking along talking and talking. She had missed Luna too, she just wasn't sure how be her friend, being so estranged from Ron and them dating. ”Oh Ron will understand eventually, he has changed too. It's funny how the war changed us all really, or not funny but rather sad.” She said quietly, a wistful smile on her face. Hermione led Luna to her cabin, thinking it was probably time to renew her old friendships, and start letting more people in, as she hadn't had an episode for so long. 

Luna had walked behind her as Hermione showed her the garden, exclaiming loudly ”Gernumbli gardensi!” when Hermione had introduced her to Old-Failte. Luna was taken with everything. She offered to gift her a sapling of the Dirigible plums Xenophilius had grown in his gardens. ”They broaden the mind, you see. Enhance the ability to accept the extraordinary, my father used to say. And I don't think you need to worry about telling him Hermione, or Draco either, they both love you. I find that making a list of what one wants to say makes it easier to speak loud and clear when the time comes.”

After these baffling exchanges Luna had pranced away singing, promising to come back a later date, sapling in hand, now that she knew where she could find her again. Luna´s words had both assured her and agitated her. She knew she would need to tell Draco the whole thing, baby's father included, and was dreading he wouldn't take it well. 

She had told him later that night, curled up together in their sofa, talking quietly and slowly, taking in his every reaction, facial expression and look. She was horrified that he would be so recoiled he would not want her anyone. ”Did you love him?” Was the only question he had had. Had she loved him? She had thought so, at the time at least. Her feelings towards him hadn't mattered really afterwards, he had made known that he thought it had been a mistake, it hadn't matter if she did love him. 

”I don't care you know. I don't care that it's him, it could be Merlin himself, and I wouldn't care. It's me who's here for her and for you and if he wants to see her, fine. But if he makes her sad, I'll see to it myself, that he will pay for it.” Draco said this laying his ear on her stomach, stroking it with his right hand, his left hand in Hermione´s. ”I want to be there for her Hermione, every day. I love her already. I really want to be there for you – both.

Not knowing what to say, she kept silent, and they fell asleep like that, entwined on couch, a roaring fire in the grate. As she got up in the night needing to pee, she grabbed a small bit of parchment from the kitchen counter scribbling ”I suppose we should talk” in it, and sending  her message tightly rolled up and attached in Hugo´s foot, quietly opening and closing the kitchen window. She shuddered, and returned to take her place by Draco´s side.


	14. The talk

The talk  
First of April 1999

Nature had completely woken up, birds were singing, flowers blooming, and treetops and shrubberies alive with tiny new leaves. She was walking in the woods, trying to calm her thoughts. She had arranged to meet Snape this evening and she was feeling anxious. What was it that he needed to talk to her about so desperately? What if he, seeing her vast belly, lost his nerve, and wouldn't say anything at all? What if it changed everything he was waiting to say? No - she'd have to hide her stomach somehow, be quiet and let him speak, and then think of what to do. 

Healer Merryweather at St. Mungo's maternity ward had asked Hermione to choose a healer or a midwife to handle her labour from a long list of names. Hermione, not knowing one them, or having seen any references had written to Poppy Pomfrey, the matron at Hogwarts, asking if she could find the time to be her midwife. She knew it was a lot to ask, Madam Pomfrey had a school full of students to attend to, but Poppy had replied that she would be delighted to, and that Hannah Abbott, who had been training under her the whole year, could manage just fine with few bumps and bruises. They had agreed that Minerva, who Hermione had asked to be there as her support, would come and fetch Poppy when it was time. 

–

Hagrid had come over three days ago. He had portkeyed in, timber and tools clutched in his arms, and seeing Hermione's belly, dropped it all sobbing and heaving. ”'Ermione, a baby! Blimey! It-It is so wonderful little Sirius will 'ave some little friends!”. She hadn't actively hidden the fact that she was pregnant from Hagrid, but they had mainly written each other about magical creatures, and perhaps the last time they had seen, Hagrid had just thought that Hermione had over indulged with Winky's cooking.

Hagrid had built a small coop for the hens, near the composts, just big enough to hold six chicken and a rooster. ”They'll need one yer know, without a rooster they'll just bicker and get stressed out. Shed every feather they've got. ” Hagrid had said. He had rummaged through one of his vast jacket pockets and bringing up six young chicks and a very small young rooster. Hermione had squealed with joy, stroking and petting and hugging each one. Before putting them then down on the ground she looked in each creature in the eyes and gave it a name. Now Edna, Daisy, Gloria, Holly, Polly and Penelope were scattered about, getting a good look at their new home. The rooster she decided to call Benedict.  Benedict was tall and scrawny, somehow reminding her of Percy Weasley. 

Hagrid had marvelled how the knarls had thrived and was fascinated with Old-Failte. ”Yer know he's not a gnome.Well he is an' he isn't”. Hermione was struck dumb, not a gnome? ”What yer 'ave 'ere is a pech. Kind of a cousin of gnomes. Old one too. Pechs 'aven't been seen for 'undreds an' undreds of years, people thought they died out, see? Pechs used to live in the northest parts of the country, when there was still lots of them, they'd find family and live near it, an' people thought it meant good luck. They never breeded like the gnomes do, only one litter every decade, and they could live on and on, 'undreds of years. They never prancied about starkers either, see the kilt 'ere? He might be the last of his kind. Or then there's more, just like him, living in abandoned houses and tree trunks, or empty bagderholes and such.” 

He bowed low to the wrinkly ancient thing. ”Is an 'onor.” Old-Failte looked at Hermione and asked slowly, ”Samhan caill ní-eigin?”. ”No, e is onarachadh sibh ”, Hermione replied after some thinking. Hagrid was staring at them eyes round and mouth open. ”Yer speak with it! What does he say?”.  ”He asked whether you lost something, or more specifically, if the er..small giant lost something and I told him: no, you are honouring him.” The old thing looked very thoughtful and nodded to Hagrid, said ”Gun a-máireach.” to Hermione, and very slowly walked away. Maybe he was touched by such a deep gesture, or perhaps he felt apprehensive about it. Hermione´s conversations with the old  gnome – pech, had always been short. She supposed he would get tired easily.

–

 

A fresh copy of the Daily Prophet was lying on the kitchen table when Hermione returned home from her walk. She didn't need to wonder why, as printed across the front cover was the headline: Missing Muggleborn Manufactures Magical Medicine!  
St. Mungo's hospital for magical maladies and injuries gave a statement today on the new cure they have been testing. The new restorative, simply called ”M.I.D.- Massive Internal Damage”, has been invented by no other than the illustrious mastermind of the Golden Trio, the Chosen one´s right hand - muggleborn Hermione Granger, who got an order of Merlin first class for her efforts bringing down Lord Voldemort. Miss Granger, who has been dubbed the brightest witch of the age, had been a target for nasty rumours ever since her disappearance after the Battle of Hogwarts. The gossip that the war heroine had lost her marbles can be put permanently to rest, as it turns out, she had been working on this miraculous remedy the whole time! Article continues on pages 6,7,8,9, 14 and 15. Read Miss Granger's background, her role in the Boy-who-lived´s life, her antics during the battle and what we know of her life after the war!

The whole article had contained the word ”muggle born” for twenty-seven times. Harry had been mentioned even more often. The last piece had annoyed her beyond measure, it was a gossip column, wondering what happened to her and Ron's relationship, interviewing some of her old schoolmates. It was hinted that she, Harry and Ron had been in fact a love triangle, casting lurid accusations and insinuations on what had broken them up.  

Well that's just great. Never mind the potion, this must be so much more important and interesting. And how dare they imply that Ginny had gotten pregnant on purpose, to drive a wedge between them and tie Harry to herself? 

-

She had taken a bath, and explained to Winky that she'd prefer if Snape wouldn't see her obvious condition when he came over, being a powerful wizard he would surely notice if she tried to glamour it or use a notice-me-not-spell. They devised a simple plan to have her situated at the kitchen table so, that her prominent abdomen would be underneath the table, and shrouding her various, thick hanging layers of dresses, robes and shawls to disguise it further. He was to come after night fall, and she started to feel nervous. 

She had sat down at the table half an hour earlier, and gotten out some volumes to read and her notes on the salamander skins, sipping tea and pretending to read. She had tried, but had just read and re-read the same line over and over again, still having no clue what it was about. There was a sharp knock on the door. Winky moved to open it as they had agreed earlier. 

”Hello, sir.” Hermione said emphasizing the sir which made him flinch slightly. ”Please sit down. I promised I'd see you and listen what you have to say, so please. Start talking.” Snape slowly walked and took a seat opposite of her. He was sitting with his back straight and shoulders squared, eyes resting somewhere behind her right shoulder. He nodded curtly and swallowed, licking his lips before starting.

”I have had ample amounts of time to consider what to say, if the opportunity ever rose and Hermione... I...I would want to disclose why I left as I did. I was acting cowardly.” He paused and swallowed harder. ”Could you fathom what is was like for me. I have never been the kind of man to wear my heart on my sleeve, displaying my inner workings would have gotten me tortured and killed for years. Half my life I have been occluding my mind, working for the Order under the Dark Lord”. He was silent for a long time. His eyes were unreadable. 

”I thought you wouldn't... I thought it highly unlikely you would have reciprocated my - my thoughts. I have never been cared for or nurtured as you did in the hospital wing, so I reasoned the way I was...The feelings must have been those of gratitude and a response for all of your consideration. After the war had ended I had no desire to stay at Hogwarts, I've always despised the place, I despised being a teacher. I was at Hogwart´s only because I was ordered to be there, and the only place I had left to go was Spinner's End which, if possible I despised even more. I was disorientated. Empty. What was I to do, now? I had never thought to survive the war. And you showed such... Unbelievable care and gentleness and suddenly I found myself betraying the memory I had lived for, worked for, for almost twenty years. When we met again I was overcome by all the intensity of the emotions I had tried, to no avail, reason away and during the morning hours I tortured myself. I imagined you would think it a horrible mistake. So I ran, again. Appalled by what I had done. Your reaction seeing me at New Year´s only enforced my previous anxieties and when I finally had the courage to try and find you, you were nowhere to be found and wanted nothing to do with me. After months and months of reflecting the matter I have to know, I have to be certain about your – take on the matter.” He stopped talking and looked her in the eyes for the first time. His sallow skin had pink blotches high on his cheeks and his hands were trembling. He looked at her, pleading. Willing her to say something.

”Severus I...I get it. I can see that it hasn't been easy for you. I don't know what you want for me to say. I fell for you, badly, and you left me and I was so alone. I completely fell apart and...” She started to cry. Snape got up and circled the table, hovering over her, his hand about to caress her trembling shoulders, seeking her to give the permission to touch her. She grabbed his waist, burrowing her face in to his stomach and wept and wailed while he gently stroke her hair, teardrops silently falling from his own eyes. 

After her sobs had subsided and her breathing calmed down he said quietly and tentatively, taking a small break between each word, ”Is there a chance we could...Start over?” His shirt was wet from her tears and snot. She sluggishly pulled her chair back, rising slowly to her feet, and his eyes went wide. He took her enormous, rounded stomach in and stopped breathing. For once it seemed, he was utterly unable to find words.


	15. Remembering the memorial service

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, this jumps back to the beginning of the story, or day before to be accurate!
> 
> Also there is some sexual content, I wasn't sure if it's teen or mature, if it's not your thing, maybe skip it all together?

Remembering the memorial service  
First of September 1998

The school had been full of students, new ones, returning ones, and the ones that had taken part in the Battle of Hogwarts. The ministry was represented in large quantities, as was the Order of the Phoenix. The sorting of the new students was over and done with, and there had been a speech after speech of the war, of the bravery and the loss. 

Harry had stuttered, blushing violently, through his own speech. The Headmistress had mastered the art years ago and Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt had spoken with the passion that made Hermione think of Dr. King. People kept clapping as the promises of new and better age for all wizardkind followed, one after the other. 

Hermione had felt dizzy and disorientated. There was not enough oxygen in the air and she sat quietly, trapped in her panicked thoughts, between Ginny and Harry. The Ministry had given out medals, some posthumously. Harry and Ron had to almost carry her to the stage to accept their orders of Merlin first class, she must have looked like a deer caught in the headlights in the shots the press had taken of the ”Golden trio”.After accepting the medal, she had crept behind the crowd and slipped out of the Great Hall. Her feet had taken her towards the hospital wing, and she recklessly had broken into Madam Pomfrey´s office and nicked the firewhiskey bottle from her desk´s bottom drawer. 

She was sitting curled up in the narrow space between his old bed and the wall. She had downed nearly half of the bottle already, her vision tuning in and out, like a television with a bad reception. Suddenly he had been there. She had smelled him before her eyes updated her on the fact that he was bowing low, sitting down beside her. ”Miss Granger, are you feeling alright?” He had inquired her, eyes full of  trepidation. ”Yes, yes! Miss Granger is just bloody fine and dandy, why wouldn't she be?” She had replied sardonically, taking another mouthful from the bottle. He had reached for the bottle firmly, bringing it to his own lips and drinking deeply. They sat in silence for a long moment. ”If you do not wish for my company I shall leave, but I think you have had quite enough to drink.” He had said stiffly, standing up slowly, towering over her, watching her carefully. 

She had leaped to her feet. She was standing so close him she almost touched his chest with her nose.  ”Fine, leave! Leave me again, why won't you!” The sentence was cut short , as he pulled her mouth on his, cupping her cheeks, covering her lips with his hungry  kiss. She responded immediately, her hands grabbing fistfulls of his fine, black hair, pressing her body tightly against him. Her heart was beating so fast she almost forgot to breathe.

She felt whole. His taste and scent surrounded her in a sweet, familiar way. Filling her entire consciousness. She would never let go, never. His kiss quenched the thirst she had felt, the void inside her felt filled to the brim. She could feel her excitement pooling inside as his hands slid down her back, cupping her backside, moving to her sides and stroking up again until he found her breasts. His touch made her skin erupt in goosebumps and made her whole gut tinkle. So these are the famous butterflies, she thought. 

This was something she had yearned for, something she had secretly imagined in the quiet hours of the night, after long evenings by his bedside. She had imagined his hands on her skin hundreds of times, and it didn't come near the real thing. She felt euphoric happiness fill her every cell. 

He wanted her, there was no doubt about it, and she felt victorious. She was desirable for him, she made his body respond to her smallest move as she ran her hands up and down his lean sides, pressing him even closer to her, willing for him to surrender to the moment completely. She ripped her robes open and the tiny buttons shot out and hit the floor, as he was fumbling with the fastenings of his robes, never disengageing from their frantic kiss, coaxing a guttural groans from his throat.

He cupped her left breast in his hand, as he had  finally broken the kiss, taking the other pert bud between his lips. She was keening under his touch, she felt she could wait no longer. The mounting pressure inside her demanded friction. She unbuttoned his trousers and he stopped for a moment and searched her eyes for confirmation. At her reassuring nod he looked hungrily at her eyes as he pushed his swolled head in to her core. A whimper escaped his lips. The sensation of him filling her inch by inch wound the pressure inside her to a tighter coil. When she climaxed, she whispered hoarsely ”Severus” and his eyes glazed over with the sound of his name uttered so sweetly. He followed her in three frantic thrusts.

He had held her until she had fallen asleep, pressed tight against his side. He had marvelled at her form resting in the crook of his arm and stroked her hair pressing gentle kisses across her forehead. He wound up a single strand of her hair around his index finger and lay there quietly, listening to her slow and steady breathing.

 

–

 

She woke as sunrise started to light up the ward. He was gone. A small note on the bedside table read I'm sorry. He was sorry. He evidently regretted the whole thing. 

She dressed herself in silence, made the bed and walked to her rooms in the Gryffindor tower. He was sorry. It was a mistake to him. Did she not ever learn? He had left her just as easily and effortlessly this time. She was pathetic, a whimpering, idiotic, stupid little schoolgirl. How could she have ever entertained the thought, that he would care for her. She gathered her last unpacked possessions, took a long shower and waited for Crookshanks to come back from his nightly hunting trip. Then they would leave. 

The tears wouldn't come. She could feel the painful lump in her throat, the urge to scream and weep and wail, but they just wouldn't come. It was over. He didn't care for her, he didn't want her. She would just have to move on.


	16. Nionag Eilidh

Little Minerva  
25th of May 1999

It turned out that bringing a child in to the world was just as hard as it was rumoured to be. And painful. Little Minerva was coming precisely on the due date. ”Little Miss shall be very punctual.” Winky had said as she had went to get Madam Pomfrey and McGonagall from Hogwarts, when the contractions were coming every ten minutes. Hermione´s labour had started the previous evening and she had soaked in her steaming tub holding Snape´s hand and cursing wildly, sometimes grunting and moaning during the painful spasms, while Winky fussed about with clean linens and towels, gathering the needed items near her bed. 

Little Minerva was born at six thirteen, tuesday morning. Madam Pomfrey had lifted the warm, tiny girl on top of her mother's stomach, between her breast, where she had instantly started to nuzzle and latched on. Minerva and Poppy were dapping their eyes with handkerchiefs, Snape sitting in complete silence, seemingly holding his breath, beholding his daughter. Little Minerva had Hermione's golden brown, wild curls, but her father´s ink black eyes. Finally , after two hours, handing him the baby, Hermione got up sorely, to take a shower, aided by Poppy and Winky.  
”She is beautiful Severus, McGonagall uttered gently to the awe-struck man. Who nodded vigorously, un-shed tears gleaming in his eyes. 

–

When Hermione re-emerged from the bathroom, dressed in her favourite woolly dress and returned to her daughter, Old-Failte was standing next to the bed. ”Nionag Eilidh. Tha sonas ga feitheamh.”He said smiling a curious and gentle smile, bowing to the baby and Hermione, and walking out again in his slow manner. The others were looking at her flabbergasted, expecting for some sort of an explanation, and she complied, ”Little girl, ray of sunshine, happiness awaits her.” I like the name Eilidh. Minerva Eilidh”. 

Minerva Mcgonagall was holding her goddaughter proudly and said in a strangeled voice, somewhat higher than normal ”I have left little Minerva the Beech Lodge in my will. If you desire to keep paying rent, I have deposited all the previous installments in Gringott´s vault 1278, which until today was owned by ”baby Granger”, I shall inform the goblins of her full name now, the vault is set up so, that she shall have full access as she comes of age. I may presume too much, but if you, Severus wish to join your family here, it is all right with me, I have understood that the Spinner´s End doesn't hold any dear memories for you. 

–

She had had the horrible and heart breaking talk with Draco after Snape had visited her. Draco had been completely devastated, but not angry or spiteful. They had cried together, talked and talked, and promised to stay best friends, Draco still wanting to be part of the baby's life. ”You could be godfather, if you would still like to.” She had said, and Draco had taken her up on the offer.

Harry, Ginny and Remus had come by to meet little Minerva with Teddy and Sirius, three days later, Ginny having to constantly slap and punch the gobsmacked Harry, who kept eyeing Snape with a mix of utter wonder and brotherly violent feelings. 

”Him!It's him? It's that greasy git and you didn't trust me enough to tell me?” Were his first words, coming in the door and seeing Snape cradling the baby sitting in the armchair by the fire. ”Harry! Shut up! Congratulations Hermione!” Were Ginny's. To Snape Ginny had quietly murmured, bowed down by his ear, keeping her eyes on the slumbering girl in his arms, ”So are you a thing now? Or are you popping in before leaving her again?” Snape had started to speak, but Ginny interrupted him. ”I'll make this fucking plain. Those two-” She pointed at baby Minerva and Hermione, ”-Deserve only the best, if you run out on her one more time, I'll personally make sure there won't be anything left of you, to hurt her again. Third time's the charm Snape, don't you dare to fuck this up.” She stood up smiling widely. ”I understand, Mrs. Potter.” He said quietly, looking at her earnestly. Remus nodded to Snape from the other side of the room, making it understood, that his super-human hearing had enabled him to listen in, and he heartily agreed on the sentiment. 

Everyone adored the baby girl, but no one perhaps seemed to be as reverently in awe about her as Teddy Lupin who was now leaning against Snape´s legs, looking at little Minerva with round gentle eyes and clearly being pulled by the same connection they had had, ever since she was still in her mother's womb. Snape lowered the child and Teddy carefully touched Minerva´s soft tufts of curly hair, his own taking it´s texture but a subtle shade of palest pink. His lips kept moving, but no sound came out. It looked like he had something important to convey. ”I think my son is in love.”, said Remus, hugging Hermione, as they watched Teddy´s affectionate display.


	17. Epilogue, Clever Minerva

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four years later

Epilogue  
First of June 2003

It was a beautiful and warm summer day. Draco had just left, bringing his goddaughter back from their day to the muggle zoo. They had gone, just the two of them, as Draco's wife was so far along, she didn't want to join them as she needed to pee every fifteen minutes. Minerva was holding a new pale blue stuffed unicorn courtesy of her godfather.

He was the best godfather in the world, seeing the child often and being a loving, safe adult in Minerva´s life. Hermione was best friends with him as they had swore, and she adored Draco’s wife Astoria. Minerva had uncle Draco wrapped so tightly around her tiny little finger that they would always indulge on Fortesque´s on their outings, and her blue summer dress was once again supporting the evidence of chocolate ice-cream.

 

-

\- ”Daddy? Do you love me?”  
\- ”Yes, of course I do princess.”  
\- ” And Daddy, do you love mummy?”  
\- ”Yes. I love Mummy very much. I was fool when- when it would have important not to be one. But your mummy luckily forgave me. It was really you who made us a family.” Her wonder-filled face came in to his view from behind his head, where the little girl was braiding partitions of his long, fine black hair, tying it tightly with red and pink ribbons.  
\- ”How?”  
\- ”Well your mother and I can both can be quite um – unyielding. Pig headed and stupid. But you were so precious and lovely and miraculous, you made us grow past our own insecurities and made us in to a real family.”  
\- ”Was I clever?  
-”Indeed, you were very clever, princess.”

Harry and Ginny had had another baby just last autumn. Lily Hermione Potter, who had inherited the red Weasley hair and brown eyes. She was basically Ginny in miniature. Sirius was a proud and protective older brother. He and Teddy were now sharing the nursery on the third floor. Teddy cared for his companions vastly, but they couldn't quite compete with the mysterious connection he had with Minerva.Remus was now the head of the beast department in the Magical creatures and beings, still single and not wanting to move on from Tonks memory. 

Neville was still training under Professor Sprout and his new wife Hannah Abbott under Madam Pomfrey. They would succeed their honourable masters in two years. Their wedding had been held at Hogwarts during the last summer hols, in greenhouse number 8, which was Neville´s own project. The wedding had been full to the prim with old friends, it had been lovely to see all of them. Except for Ron. Ron and Luna had had twin boys in 2001, Amphion and Zethus, like Luna had predicted. Luna was very close to Hermione, but Ron never quite got over the weirdness between them nor the fact that Snape was Minerva´s father. George and Angelina had a daughter – Fredrica. George was still not quite himself, after losing his twin, and Charlie and Percy too had gotten married and had families. Bill and Fleur had also had twins and Mrs. Weasley was already a grandmother of eleven. 

-

The Granger-Snapes still lived in Beech Lodge, but had enlarged the place to accommodate their growing need for space. Hermione´s lab was on the second floor, as was their bedroom. Her office, as they called it, reminded the magical apothecary, a small scale magical creatures pet shop and a high end laboratory, being surgically clean and in meticulous order. She was, working still, inventing new potions and finding out new ways to use ingredients. She was sometimes accompanied in the evenings by her husband, who usually brewed only the necesseties for their medical cabinet, but mainly Severus Snape occupied his days reading to his daughter, walking about with her in the woods and meadows, teaching her all he knew. 

Minerva was now four. The other addition to the cabin had been Minerva's bedroom . It was small and very pink. It had a pink four poster, with pink curtain hangings, pink flowers adorning the pink walls. Severus had arranged and painted it himself, per his little princess´s request. The room had a desk, bookshelves, the bed and a pillow fort. It was filled with stuffed unicorns, that Uncle Draco just could not say no to, whenever they found one on their outings. 

Minerva was playing outside. Hermione watched through the kitchen window as the girl marched aroung the yard, talking to something she couldn't see from her point of view. Their six chickens walked in a orderly fashion behind her, with the rooster Benedict standing on the roof of the coop, as if he was monitoring the exercise. As Minerva turned and led the chickens towards the gate, Hermione could see she was talking animatedly to Old-Failte. The old pech was listening carefully with a genial look on his face, seeming to answer to Minerva now and again, but mainly letting her talk. The girl had picked up the language so fast, Hermione was sure her daughter probably spoke it better than she did. Hermione tapped on the glass to get Minerva´s attention, and beckoned her in.

\- ”Mummy was I a clever baby?”  
\- ”What?”  
\- ”Daddy says I was clever, that I made us a family when you were being stupid.”  
\- ”Well, Daddy is right darling, it was all you. Adults can sometimes be very stupid.”  
\- ” Even you and Daddy? But you are very smart, you know everything, about everything!...Why were you stupid?”  
\- ” Well, we were scared and you made us strong and fearless, you made us talk about how much we loved each other. Did you know that your Daddy actually fainted when he saw you in my belly for the first time?”  
”Did you really, Daddy?” The girl´s eyes widened and her father flushed pink.  
”But I' m more clever.”  
”How's that darling?”  
”Well I've told Teddy I love him, and he's told me he loves me. We aren't being stupid. We are being clever.”  
”Indeed you are princess”. Her father said, sitting down on his chair at the kitchen table. Smiling to his wife, he took her hand and they nuzzeled their noses together and kissed. 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the Scottish Gaelic on this work was from a web dictionary, I have no clue how accurate it really is!


End file.
